


Not on any List

by melonbutterfly



Series: A Solid Foundation [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Political Animals
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Depression, Friends to Lovers, M/M, No Bucky Barnes, Past Suicide Attempt, Recovery, Slow Build, off-screen Mental Institutions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:40:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3940609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbutterfly/pseuds/melonbutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve meets TJ Hammond, the Vice President's son, TJ isn't in a good place. Perhaps it's that which draws Steve to him - subconsciously he recognizes something of himself in TJ, and maybe the same is true for TJ. It's an unlikely friendship they strike up, but it deepens and eventually expands into something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Search of the Good Stuff

**Author's Note:**

> The title was taken from what TJ's fling said to him: "You're on my list. Famous guys I can cheat with, you're my number two."
> 
> Check out this gorgeous playlist derryday made!

"Seriously, man, you don't need to stay here, this is boring as hell anyway," Sam tells him.

"Right." Steve rolls his eyes. "As if I'd leave you alone at the hospital with a possibly broken ankle."

Sam scowls. "It's not broken."

"Let the X-Ray decide that," a nurse popping up out of nowhere says. It's three am so the waiting room is pretty empty, and she's brought a wheelchair with her. "Sam Wilson?"

"That's me." Resigned, Sam gets into the wheelchair, graciously not commenting on Steve hovering around him like a fretting parent, ready to catch him should he falter. "But seriously, you don't need to come with me for this, too. Go get some coffee or something."

Steve takes that to mean that Sam feels emasculated being trailed everywhere, and also possibly Sam's pride is injured because he hurt himself while they were running. So he just nods. "Alright. See you back here."

The nurse wheels Sam away, and Steve goes to search for coffee. They already had some from this vending machine and it was awful, so Steve goes to look for a staff room. His mother was a nurse; he knows that they keep the better coffee in their own machines. It's only sensible.

As he wanders the bright, but strangely quiet corridors he comes by another vending machine, this one for snacks, and on a whim gets a bag of cookies. He's munching on one when he finds a staff room and carefully pokes his head in. If it's occupied he won't go inside and steal their coffee.

It _is_ occupied, but Steve highly doubts the guy in the slippers and nightgown with the IV pole actually works here. Still he hesitates, not sure if he should enter, but then the guy turns around, spots Steve and goes still. He's pale, dark rings under his red-rimmed eyes, hair a mess and his face slightly scruffy like he hasn't shaved in three days, and somehow, he still looks cute. "What are you doing?" he guy demands, eyes narrowing.

Steve quickly averts his eyes, both from the guy and the seriously inappropriate thoughts he's having about him (a _hospital patient,_ for god's sake) and instead eyes the cup the guy is holding. He focuses on that and makes an educated guess. "What you've already done. Stealing the good coffee." Since they're now mutual witnesses to each other's misdemeanors or, perhaps, rather partners in crime, there's no reason to pass up on the coffee so he enters the room and walks over to the coffee machine. As he approaches he eyes the guy from the corners of his eyes, and yeah, he's definitely a patient. His fingers, wrapped around the coffee cup, are shaking a little and Steve doesn't think it's nerves. And he is also _really_ cute. When Steve is unwell he looks like something the cat dragged in; this guy manages to look both sad and adorable in equal measures. Just as well that thanks to the serum, Steve doesn't look unwell nearly as often anymore.

He pours himself a cup and leans against the counter, sipping it slowly. Sam won't be back for a while yet, Steve knows – not from personal experience, at least not in this millennium, but because he's been there a couple of times when one of his friends needed an x-ray. As he swallows his first mouthful of coffee, and yes, it's way better than that vending machine crap, a thought occurs to him. "They not letting you have any coffee?"

"No," the guy confirms, mouth twisting a little. For a moment it looks like he's going to elaborate, but then he doesn't.

"I never understood that," Steve says. "Why there are so many things you aren't allowed to eat when you're unwell. I mean, there has to be a reason you want them, right?"

The guy shrugs and squints at him. "There's generally also a reason why they're not allowed."

One eyebrow raised, Steve eyes the cup the guy is holding and periodically sipping from. "Right." Then he shrugs; it's none of his business. "Cookie?" He offers the bag.

The guy blinks and stares at him for a second, then at the cookies. "...why not," he then decides and takes one, a sort of fatalistic air about him. They're just _cookies._

"So," Steve says after a moment of awkward, oppressive silence. "Come here often?"

For some reason that makes the guy burst out laughing, though it doesn't sound particularly amused. "Really? Are you coming on to me or are you looking for a story? Because I gotta tell you, I'm _really_ not in the mood for the whole secret reporter shit right now."

"I'm not a reporter." Steve frowns. Is the guy paranoid? Or famous? Or both? And also, what rock does he live under? It's neither conceited nor arrogant to assume that most people have seen Steve's face before, especially after the whole press chaos after the invasion. It had been quite impossible to escape, actually, he's been told by more than one person. Not to mention all the history books he's in.

"Prove it," the guy challenges with a smirk, but his eyes are cool.

Steve hitches up one eyebrow and pulls out his phone. He's allowed to use it in this area of the hospital, he'd checked, and he swiftly googles himself and pulls up his wikipedia page. Then he presents the website with his face plain to see to the guy.

It's sort of amusing, watching the guy's face transition from skepticism to confusion to disbelief. Then the guy exclaims, "Shit, I knew you were familiar!"

Steve shrugs and takes his phone back. "Definitely not a reporter. Why were you worried about that?"

The guy raises one eyebrow and makes a grabby hand for Steve's phone. Puzzled, Steve hands it back over and watches the guy google something. A moment later he hands the phone back to Steve, also with a wikipedia page pulled up, of one Thomas "T.J." Hammond, son of former President Bud Hammond and current Vice President Elaine Barrish. The photo shows the guy standing in front of him right now.

"Oh," Steve makes and grimaces a little, putting his phone back into his pocket. "Sorry. You weren't familiar to me. I don't really follow, uh, the popular press." That isn't about actual news, in any case. "I've heard of your mother, though." What with her being Vice President and all. Wow. TJ comes from a family that's as close to royalty as it gets in the US; suddenly, Steve feels almost... clumsy.

The guy's – TJ's, Thomas'? – mouth twists. "Everyone has." Then he eyes Steve a little. "I don't really follow the tabloids either though."

"Tony finds them hilarious," Steve replies, for lack of anything else to say. "He also calls them vicious bloodhungry sharks though."

"Mixed signals, and yet both is true," TJ smirks. His coffee is empty so he moves in for a refill, arm brushing Steve's in the process. "So what's Captain America doing in the hospital?"

Steve winces a little. "Just Steve, please." It was uncomfortable enough being Captain America back then; now it's downright... awful at times. "And my friend hurt his ankle while we were running so I took him here."

TJ sends a pointed glance out the window. "Running? At this time of night?"

"It's less busy than during the day," Steve shrugs. "I'm sort of used to it, but he's not really cool with being followed around by paparazzi while he tries to keep up with me."

That makes TJ laugh again, and it sounds more amused than last time. "Wow, way to sound arrogant, man."

Steve rolls his eyes. "It's not arrogant if it's fact. And Sam says trying to outrun me is half the fun. Actually outrunning him is half the fun for me."

Again TJ chuckles, shaking his head a little as he takes a sip of his coffee. His eyes are bright as he looks at Steve over the rim of his cup, and suddenly Steve's mouth feels a little dry.

He takes a sip of his own coffee and licks his lips afterwards. "So... why are you here? If you don't mind me asking."

"Medication reacted badly with other medication, they had to pump my stomach," TJ says as he lowers his cup. All the brightness has gone from his face and Steve chastises himself for asking; what was he thinking? That it was something happy, a nice story? "That's the official story," TJ continues, eyes shrewd.

Steve swallows, wonders if he should ask. But TJ practically offered it to him on a silver tablet, so he takes it. "What's the real story?"

"Cocaine overdose," TJ tells him promptly.

"Oh," Steve makes, not sure what else to say to that. "I'm sorry."

Immediately TJ latches on to that. "Sorry that you asked, or that I did it?"

"Sorry that it happened," Steve replies slowly, not sure where this is going. It feels like TJ is waiting for something, but he has no idea what for. "I think you wanted me to ask."

Eyes narrowed, TJ looks at him for a moment. "I knew what I was doing."

That can only mean one thing. Steve swallows and takes a breath, holds TJ's gaze steadily. "I'm very sorry, then."

TJ stares at him, eyes still narrowed. It's clear he's waiting for whatever he expects, and that he's not getting it. Frowning, Steve tries to recall everything he ever heard or read about suicide attempts – or rather, how to talk to people who made one. But it's not something he ever paid particular attention to.

Eventually TJ exhales noisily and shakes his head. "I'm sorta waiting for you to tell me to get over myself."

Now Steve frowns for real. "Why?"

TJ snorts and gestures at himself, expression derisive. "Look at me, spoiled rich kid, got everything I ever wanted, nothing horrible ever happened to me. You went through the Great Depression and fought in World War Two. Yet I'm the one who tried to kill himself."

That's just not right. "I don't know much about this stuff, but I know this: depression has nothing to do with how ostensibly great your life is or is perceived to be. I'm pretty sure you had your reasons."

For a moment TJ just looks at him, then he shrugs and looks away. "Don't really remember, I was kinda drunk."

That doesn't sound like the truth, but Steve doesn't call him out on it. He feels vastly unprepared and unqualified for this conversation and, as he takes another sip of his coffee, he desperately tries to find something to say, but before he thinks of anything his phone vibrates. It's a text from Sam: "did u abandon me after all??"

"That your friend?" TJ asks.

"Yeah, he's back from x-ray," Steve replies as he texts back, "on my way, geez, quit whining". Stuffing his phone back into his pocket, he refills his cup and then fills another for Sam. "Do you want to come?"

TJ hesitates and for a second Steve thinks he's going to say yes; it'd be great because he's pretty sure Sam is much more qualified for this. But then TJ shakes his head. "Nah, gotta get back to my room before they send security out to look for me."

If he's under suicide watch that's actually not unlikely, probably. Steve nods, then hesitates. "Listen, can I have your number? Or do you want mine?"

Visibly surprised, TJ eyes him. "I'm not allowed a phone." Then he sneers. "And I don't need your pity."

"Good, because I'm not really in the business of pitying people," Steve returns, rolling his eyes. He's not sure if the phone thing is an excuse or not, but pushing is probably not a good idea. "It was nice talking to you, anyway. Bye."

He's almost at the door when TJ says, "You could visit me. If you want. I'm allowed visitors."

Steve turns around and smiles. "I'd like that, actually."

"Okay." TJ swallows. For a second he almost looks vulnerable. "I'll put you on the visitors list then. I'm in room 2134 in the Eccleston wing."

"Alright, got it." Steve smiles. "See you, then."

"Yeah, see you," TJ says quietly, and Steve sort of doesn't want to leave. TJ looks strangely alone the way he's standing there, but Steve has no other choice, not if he doesn't really want to come off as pitying. So, unable to wave with his hands full, he sticks to giving TJ another smile before turning around and going back to Sam.


	2. On the List

Steve makes himself wait to the next day, mostly because three am is unarguably the next day already and it would probably be a bit... _something_ to visit TJ the same day. Pushy, maybe. Too eager. Desperate? Something like that, anyway.

But the day after, he returns to the hospital, wearing his usual glasses disguise and the fashionable clothes Natasha suggested to him. According to her, the best disguises aren't the most elaborate ones but the ones that look normal and yet are exactly the opposite of what people expect. Steve uses this one sparingly because he knows that if he's recognized just once, if just one photo of him in these clothes makes it to the public he can't use it as a disguise again, but he figures this visit warrants it. Especially since TJ was worried about reporters.

There are guards stationed in front of room 2134 in the Ecclestone wing. Steve slows a little approaching them, but not significantly so. "Uhm, hello," he says once he reaches them. "Can I go in there?" He carefully checked the hospital's visiting hours and figured early afternoon would be a good, casual time to visit. Not as pushy and potentially intimate as morning, not as careless as evening.

"What's your name?" One of them asks. They're eyeing him, and Steve wonders what they're guarding – TJ from himself or TJ from the world?

"Steve Rogers."

"You're on the list," the guard nods. "But we need your ID and we'll have to search you."

Well. "That's alright," Steve shrugs and hands them his ID. "I'm unarmed."

The guard who spoke steps up to him and starts to pat him down, and the other one snorts. A minute later, after he's checked the contents of the bag Steve brought, the guard steps away from him while the other hands him his ID back; he didn't even look at it, just put it in a scanner and waited for said scanner to blink a green light. "Clear, you can go in."

"Thanks." Steve steps up to the door and knocks, waits until TJ says "Come in" to enter.

TJ's sitting up in bed, a bag of chips in one hand and the TV remote in the other. He looks honesty surprised to see Steve.

"Hey," Steve greets with a slightly nervous smile and closes the door after himself. Should he not have come? Was TJ just joking? But no, he added Steve to the visitor list, that must have been deliberate.

TJ quickly turns the TV off, drops the remote on the bed and smiles as well. "Hey. I, uh, didn't expect you to actually come."

That makes Steve frown. "Why? I said I would. Should I not have?"

"No! No, uhm. Wanna take a seat?" TJ gestures towards one of the chairs by his bed, so Steve sits down. "So, uh. How's your friend?"

"His ankle's not broken," Steve relays. "Also I had to buy him donuts because apparently this is all my fault." They'd made it out of the hospital by five, by which point they'd been more breakfast donuts than apology donuts. He lifts the bag he brought. "These are also donuts, but they're fresh, don't worry."

"Donuts?" TJ takes the bag and peers inside. "Whoa. Did you seriously bring me half a dozen donuts?"

Steve makes a show of looking around before he leans in and whispers, "Don't tell anyone, but some of them have coffee in them."

TJ laughs. "Oh god, oh man, this is great, thank you." He pulls one out and takes a bit bite out of it, then offers the bag to Steve. Carefully, he selects one that's not coffee-flavored.

"So," TJ says, then swallows his mouthful down. "How are you?"

With a shrug, Steve bites into his own donut. "Alright. Still getting used to DC. You?"

"Alright." TJ shrugs, then grimaces. "That's a lie, I hate hospitals. But my family wants me to stay here so they can keep a better eye on me."

"And what do you want?" Steve asks and takes another bite of his donut. When he looks up TJ is just looking at him – staring, almost.

"For them not to worry, I guess," he says after a moment, but there's something deliberate now about the casual way he eats his donut, picks out another from the bag. "I presume you've googled me by this point?" he asks, focused on the donut.

Steve blinks. "No. Why would I? I told you I'm not really into the popular press."

At that TJ finally looks up, eyeing him doubtfully. "Right."

He doesn't believe Steve. Well, that's alright, he might have made some bad experiences or something. "Never even thought about it," Steve nevertheless says. Honesty is never a bad bet, in his opinion. "So. Are you up for a round of cards?"

TJ accepts the change in topics with nothing more than a raised eyebrow – or maybe that one's because of Steve's suggestion. "Poker?"

"Actually I was thinking something more along the lines of Mau Mau, but we can do that, if you want." Steve is decent at poker, but it's not his favorite card game.

"Mow Mow?" TJ repeats, brows furrowing slightly. "How does that work? What are the stakes?"

"No stakes," Steve replies and explains the rules. They're fairly simple and TJ looks a little doubtful about it, but agrees to play one round.

As Steve half-expected, half-hoped, it's fun. The rules are simple, yes, but it's a fun game to play with room to tease and they end up doing several rounds. During the first round TJ starts to relax, and by the third he's smiling more freely and his shoulders aren't as tight. Steve hadn't even noticed it until it started to fade. TJ's hands still tremble a little as he holds his cards but Steve acts like he doesn't see; he's pretty sure it's not because of lingering nerves.

The good mood is shattered when a nurse enters to check on TJ's condition. That's really all she does, take his temperature and his pulse which is probably, Steve figures, just an excuse to come in and see how he's doing. He doesn't know how high the risk is that TJ might try to kill himself again, but he does know that if he were determined, it wouldn't necessarily be visible on his face or in his demeanor. He really should do some research into the matter.

"So, uhm," TJ says when the nurse leaves, not without having sent Steve several looks somewhere between curious and incredulous. "You don't have to worry, the nurses who treat me are under contractual obligation to keep silent. Nobody will tell the press that you were in here with me."

Steve raises one eyebrow. "Even if they did, I wouldn't care." But TJ is not looking at him, gaze focused somewhere at the foot of the bed, and maybe Steve should let this go but he doesn't, can't. He leans into TJ's line of vision until TJ has to look at him. Then he says very seriously, "TJ. I don't care who knows or if the press find out."

For a moment TJ just looks at him, expression trying for bland but really just coming out as vulnerable. Then TJ swallows and says, "Right. You're friends with Tony Stark too, anyway, right?"

Uh, what? "I am, but what does that have to do with anything?"

TJ stares at him for a second, then shakes his head. "You really didn't google me, did you? I'm sorta known for... let's call it party lifestyle. My reputation in that area is probably worse than Stark's was, before he went all monogamous and changed leaf."

"Oh, alright." It sort of fits with the whole drunk, cocaine overdose suicide attempt, maybe. Steve doesn't really have much experience in that area.

"So what I'm saying is, you probably don't want to be publicly associated with me. It wouldn't be good for your image," TJ tells him. He says it matter-of-factly, but can't hide the bitter twist to his mouth. Clearly this has happened to him before, people judging him for his public reputation or being unwilling to associate with him for it.

 _Assholes,_ Steve thinks but doesn't say. Firmly, he shakes his head. "I already told you, I don't care. One of the first things I learned in this century was not to even pay attention to what they write about me. One day I'm their hero, the next I'm a war-mongering freeloader who's about as useful as the monarchy in Britain. Listen, I really, really don't care what they say or think. The only people who matter are my friends, okay?"

TJ presses his lips together. "They wouldn't be too happy about this either, I don't think."

"They're my friends," Steve tells him, softly because TJ still looks vulnerable even though he tries not to. "They trust my judgment. And I'd like to be friends with you too, if that's okay with you."

For one breath, two, three, TJ just stares at him, blinking. Then he blurts, "Really?" His voice wobbles and it's clear he didn't mean to say anything at all. The next moment he blinks and a tear falls down from his eyelashes. "Fuck, goddamn it." Ducking his head and turning his face away, TJ wipes at his eyes.

Shit. This is so not going as planned. Steve is an idiot; he should have read up on this sort of thing. Is he allowed to touch TJ? They're not really friends yet. But he can try, trying won't hurt, right? "Hey," he says softly, the sort of nonsense thing people say when somebody is crying, and reaches out to put a hand on TJ's shoulder.

A vulnerable sound escapes TJ's throat, entirely involuntary, and he reaches up to slap one hand over his mouth, trying to stifle any ensuing noises. They still come through though, strangled but audible, and the only thing that would stop Steve now from reaching out would be TJ. But TJ doesn't pull away or even go tense when Steve gets up, moves his hand from his shoulder to wrap his arm around his back and pull him close. There are only stupid things Steve can think of to say now; things that would probably be little more than pacifying lies at best and condescending bullshit at worst, so he says nothing.

It appears he doesn't need to say anything anyway, though, because TJ leans into him and shakes, and Steve holds him tight and tries not to make this awkward. He can't help but think, though, that this is probably the last thing TJ wants, to cry in front of a virtual stranger. On the other hand, the thought of him crying alone is even sadder, so Steve holds him a little tighter, wraps his other arm around him as well so TJ can hide his face better.

Eventually TJ stops shaking, but he doesn't pull away from Steve, so Steve doesn't move, just keeps holding him. It's the only thing he can think of doing, so he'll keep doing it until TJ doesn't want him to anymore.

A few minutes after that, that moment has come. It's just a small shift of his shoulders, but TJ does pull away from Steve just slightly and Steve takes the cue and lets go of him. "Shit," TJ mutters, rubbing at his face with both hands.

He probably needs a moment, so Steve gets up and heads into what he presumes is the bathroom – it is. In there he doesn't find a towel, but he finds a plastic cup which he fills with water, and a few paper towels he wets as well.

TJ looks up when Steve enters the room again, but he won't meet Steve's eyes. His face is red, a little wet, and his eyes are swollen; he doesn't look sad and cute anymore, just sad – almost devastated, actually. "Here," Steve says quietly, offering TJ the wet paper tissues plus a couple of dry ones. "For your eyes," he explains when TJ looks a little at a loss as to what to do with them.

Wordlessly TJ puts the towels on his eyes and holds them there; when he registers the cooling effect they have he sighs and tilts his head back until he doesn't need to hold on to them anymore. Protected by the tissues from having to look at Steve and meet his eyes, he murmurs, "I'm sorry." His voice is hoarse.

"There's nothing you have to apologize for," Steve tells him quietly. He settles back into the chair and looks at the cup of water he's holding.

A bitter laugh escapes TJ. "There is a lot I have to apologize for."

"I don't know about that," Steve shrugs. "But definitely not this."

That silences TJ for a moment. "I didn't mean to do this," he eventually reveals, voice quiet.

Steve looks at him for a moment, then reaches out to touch his arm. "Maybe you needed to. It's okay."

"Really, though," TJ says after another moment. "You don't have to come back. I wouldn't want some guy I don't even know slobbering all over me either."

Wryly, Steve shakes his head. "It'll dry."

Immediately TJ lowers his head, the wet tissues falling off his face and into his lap, but he isn't paying attention; he's busy staring at the wet spot he left on Steve's shirt with utter horror. "Oh fuck! I'm so sorry, that's disgusting."

Geez. "It's really not." Steve rolls his eyes and hands TJ the cup of water. "You should drink that or you might get dehydrated."

Still staring at the wet spot, TJ takes the cup, then exhales noisily. "I'm sorry." But this time he'll at least meet Steve's eyes before he lowers them again as he takes a drink.

"Seriously." Shaking his head, Steve reaches out to touch TJ's arm again to reinforce that he means it. "There is nothing you have to apologize for, okay? Not to me, in any case."

"Dunno," Tj says after a moment. "Seems like I do have some apologies to make to America."

"But I'm not America," Steve returns firmly – maybe a little more firmly than warranted. "I'm Steve."

For what feels like almost a minute, TJ just looks at him. Then he nods and says, "Okay."

What follows is an awkward moment during which neither of them says anything; Steve doesn't know what to say and TJ is sipping his water, eyes unfocused as he stares off into the distance. Looking at him, the thought suddenly strikes Steve how... lonely he looks. Almost abandoned, as he sits there alone in his hospital bed in a room that was clearly meant for more than one bed, white walls around him and a bouquet of wilting flowers on the side table, a few bland "Get Well Soon" cards.

Then TJ sets his water aside and straightens his back, visibly shakes off the past however many minutes it was as he takes a deep breath. "So, Steve," he says. "What brings you to DC? I thought you were New York based."

"That's where I'm from, but lots of people don't live in the place they were born, don't they?" Steve points out. Then he shrugs because it's not like it's a secret. "SHIELD is based here and since I'm working with them, that's where I am. I needed a change of scenery, to be honest. A place I've never been in felt better than the city I grew up in and don't recognize."

Slowly, TJ nods. "Makes sense. I was born here, grew up here, and I'm still here, I guess."

But he didn't want to be, Steve thinks but doesn't say. They're definitely not good enough friends for that. "Do you like it here?"

After a quick glance out of the window – a nondescript view of trees and a park – TJ shrugs carelessly. "I guess. I never really thought about it. My family is here, so."

"Your mother is into politics, right? What about your dad? Do you have any other family?"

TJ blinks for a second. "Uh, yeah. Man, I forget that you don't really, well. If you'd grown up in this century you'd know and I'm not used to people not knowing. My dad used to be president. Then there's my grandma, my mom's mother, and I have a twin brother. He's the good seed, I'm the bad apple."

Okay, so Steve has no idea what to say to that. Say that it's not true? He has absolutely no idea if that's the case or not, clearly. Tell TJ not to say or think these things? That's really going to help him. He flounders for a moment, then asks carefully, "Would he say that too?"

Thankfully, TJ hesitates. He lowers his gaze to the bed and blinks a little. "I guess he's the only one in this family who believes in me. He gave me money for this club I opened and I completely screwed him over."

Steve frowns. "Did you do it on purpose?"

"No!" TJ's head whips up. "Of course not."

Yeah, Steve didn't think so. He isn't often wrong about people. "Then I'm sure he'll forgive you."

Shaking his head, TJ curls his fingers in the sheets he's sitting on. "You can't know that."

"No, I don't," Steve has to admit. He leans forwards a little to reinforce his point. "But you just told me that he believes in you, even though your parents and grandmother apparently didn't. He believes in you enough to fund you. That tells me enough to know he's going to forgive you."

For several seconds TJ looks at him, and then he draws his lower lip between his teeth. "They weren't trying to be... it's not like they don't like me. Mom and dad. They just... look, all my life I've never really done much. I tried a couple of things and screwed them all up. They just knew better than to trust me again, and I guess they were proven right."

Right, he needs more context for this. "What happened?" Steve asks softly.

Shrugging, TJ lowers his gaze again. "I thought I'd, well. I can't really do anything, so I figured, there is one thing I'm good at and that's partying. Why not open a club? There were some guys who suggested it actually. Well long story short, all they needed was my name and my money. Douglas' money, actually, because I don't have any."

God, what assholes. "That's definitely not your fault," Steve tells him. "Hey." He reaches out to touch TJ's arm to make him look up, and once TJ does, he repeats, "That's not your fault. Some douchebags screwed you over. It happens to a lot of people, and it's never their fault."

"I guess..." Slowly, TJ exhales. "I just wanted to prove to them that I'm not a complete failure. And I completely failed. Fucking irony, right?" He's shaking his head, lips twisting bitterly in some facsimile of a smile.

"You didn't fail," Steve insists. "You were set up. You trusted the wrong people. It happens to the best of us. And I think maybe... look, this might be a little out of line, but I think what you should focus on isn't other people and what they want from you or might think about you, but what you want. What you like. That's what matters the most. As for your family, they love you. I'm sure they'll be happy as long as you are happy."

TJ lifts his shoulders. "I guess. The thing is, I don't really know what I like."

"Then maybe it's time to find out, don't you think?" Steve reaches out to touch TJ's arm again, just briefly. The irony of him saying that doesn't escape him, but they're not talking about his problems, they're talking about TJ's.

"Yeah, maybe," TJ says quietly. He stares out of the window for a moment, brows furrowed, then visibly shakes it off and focuses on Steve again. "Man, this has to be depressing for you, why are you even still here?"

"As far as hospital visits go, it could be much worse," Steve returns dryly. "And I told you already, I like you. I'd like to get to know you better."

After a moment of looking at him, TJ nods and agrees, half accepting, half with the tone of voice of someone just indulging somebody else. "Alright."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story got a much bigger reception than I expected! I just want to thank all of you for leaving comments or kudos, and I hope you'll like where this is going!


	3. The First Step

Three days after his first visit Steve returns to the hospital, this time with a bigger bag. It contains a couple of snacks and the first two Harry Potter books, because TJ had said he hadn't really read for recreation in a while. The Harry Potter series had been a common ground – TJ had grown up with them, in a way, and Steve had read them pretty early in because he'd been informed by several sources that they were important in today's culture.

This time, the guards in front of TJ's room react entirely differently. For one, they actually look at Steve, definitely recognizing him. The last time he hadn't known if it was professionalism or disinterest that they hadn't reacted to him; he guesses now he has his answer. They're actually respectful now, in that way uniformed people often are in his presence. They still check his ID and pat him down, but are a lot more apologetic about it this time. Steve tells them it's a sign of professionalism, then hands out one autograph each, scribbled on the backs of crumbled receipts they manage to scrounge up from their pockets.

By the time he's finally let into TJ's room the public smile is a little hard to slip off, and TJ, looking up, recognizes it immediately, going by his wince. "Ouch," he makes. "You don't actually have to visit me if you don't want to, you know." The way he says it, with a smile and joking demeanor that's plainly a front, actually makes something ache for him behind Steve's sternum.

He shakes his head, partly to dislodge the feeling, mostly in reply. "That's not it. Your guards recognized me this time. They were really apologetic about patting me down. Is your life in danger?"

TJ looks startled, then barks out a laugh. "Really? They're looking for drugs, man. Everybody who's not family gets the same treatment. Not that I get any visitors apart from them or you." He shrugs in some facsimile of carelessness.

Drugs, huh? "Well that would explain their expressions," Steve says lightly as he takes a seat on the chair closest to the bed. "I brought you presents."

"Presents?" Visibly perking up, TJ makes grabby hands for the bag even as Steve hands it over and then curiously pokes his head inside. He makes happy noises about the snacks – several small bags of chips and candy – and outright laughs at the books. Grinning, he pulls them out. "This is because I didn't know the giant's name, isn't it?"

"Half-giant," Steve automatically corrects. "Hagrid. And no comment."

Still grinning, TJ shakes his head and puts the books on the nightstand, knocking a few of the Get Well Soon cards over in the process and not seeming to even notice, much less care. The flowers, Steve notices, got replaced by a new, fresh bouquet. "There's something funny about getting schooled on modern media by a guy who was born a hundred years ago."

"It was ninety-five years ago, actually, and in reality I'm twenty-seven," Steve corrects, eyes rolling heavenwards. "You know how often I hear that? Nobody is satisfied until they've found something I don't know."

But TJ isn't listening anymore; he's staring at Steve with his mouth dropped open. "Twenty-seven?"

Steve blinks. "I was twenty-six when I crashed, and I've had one birthday since then."

"Wow." Looking surprised, TJ shakes his head. "I'm older than you. Who would've thought? I'm thirty," he answers Steve's unasked question.

"Not by that much, then, and technically I'm sixty-five years older than you." Steve shrugs. "It's actually kind of funny because most people I work with are as old or older than me. When I work with a SHIELD team, it's generally at least two thirds of them who are older than me. But they all act like I'm older and wiser than them."

"And you're still the leader," TJ muses. "It's sort of ironic, because with me, everybody acts like I'm barely above drinking age and too young for responsibilities or decisions. Granted, I'm a colossal fuck-up, so maybe they're not wrong."

"You don't look like a fuck-up to me," Steve replies, making a show of eyeing TJ up and down. "In any case, at worst you have fucked up. Fucking up doesn't make you a fuck-up, though. You okay?"

TJ's looking a little dazed, actually, staring at Steve with slightly widened eyes and not blinking, but at the question he seems to recover himself a little. "I've, ah, I didn't expect you to use curse words, is all."

It's probably a deflection, Steve figures, but he'd be a little uncomfortable too talking with a total stranger about something private. Granted, TJ practically invited it with his bluntness, but Steve has experience with that from Tony and is pretty sure he knows what this is. Deciding that a change in topic would probably do them both good, he nods towards the books. "I expect you to have read them by the time I come visit again. I'll bring the next two."

"Both of them?" TJ exclaims, turning his head to eye the books. "These are huge. No way, man. Maybe half of the first. Unless you're not coming back until next week."

It's Monday. "No, no," Steve denies quickly. "Sooner, unless you... yeah. Though it can happen that I have a mission and I sometimes don't have a lot of time as warning, so if I don't show up for some reason, that'll be why."

"Alright," TJ says, nodding a little. Tearing into one of the portion-sized bag of chips, he nods towards the two Harry Potter books. "So, have you seen the movie?"

They spend some time chatting idly about nothing and everything. A nurse comes in at one point, and it seems his luck has run out completely, because she too recognizes Steve. At least she doesn't say a word about it or to him, but her wide-eyed expression gives her away.

Steve ignores it, and TJ picks up on that and doesn't bring it up either. Eventually, TJ glances at his clock and grimaces. "So, not that I'm throwing you out or anything. But my mom's coming around to visit me soon and unless you want to meet her, well."

"Elaine Barrish?" Steve muses. "I've never met her." He frowns a bit, thinking about it, but he's not sure what the protocol is here. "Do you want me to not meet her?"

"It's not that," TJ hastens to assure him. "It's that, well. She's a politician." His mouth twists a little bitterly. "So keep that in mind. Don't get me wrong, I love her, but she... I wouldn't put it past her to use knowing you for her political gain. Maybe she won't if I ask her but she'll probably insist on asking you, or on having me ask you, or whatever. I don't really..."

"It's fine," Steve says quickly, not quite interrupting him. "I understand if you don't want to deal with that. Captain America's a political figure." He gets to his feet and smiles. "I'll see you in a couple of days then, alright?"

"Yeah." TJ smiles a little weakly. "Sorry about basically throwing you out."

"That's not what you're doing," Steve protests, reaching out to touch the back of TJ's hand. "You offered me a choice. It's no big deal anyway. I'll be back, okay?"

"Okay," TJ echoes, smile a little stronger now.

Steve makes it out without any complication; the guards don't stop him, nor does anybody else, and he doesn't see TJ's mother either.

He returns on Thursday, a little tired from another training exercise at SHIELD spanning the past two days. But he doesn't expect TJ to comment on this; even when he feels tired it takes a certain level of exhaustion for him to really look like it and generally people don't notice. Not because they're inattentive, "mildly tired" is just not something that makes people pause and pay attention.

Surprisingly, though, literally the first thing TJ says when Steve walks into the room is, "You look tired."

Caught off-guard, Steve blinks once before he smiles. It's surprisingly nice that TJ noticed, though he couldn't really say why. TJ is already ducking his head, embarrassed at his rudeness.

"I mean, hey. Sorry."

Still smiling, Steve wakes him off. "Nevermind. Yeah, I'm a little tired, I spent the past two days in a training exercise. How are you?"

TJ shrugs noncommittally. "Fine. What do you need to train?"

Steve blinks, then laughs. "No, the training wasn't for me, it was for others. I was one of the training officers. Though when I first woke up I did get a lot of training sessions." And lessons in all subjects. Fun times. Rather than get into that, he hands the bag over he brought and glances at the books still on TJ's nightstand. "So, how did you get on?"

"Read both," TJ replies promptly. "Weird how fast I got through them, but then again, not much to do around here." He shrugs, already peering into the bag Steve brought and grinning at the assorted snacks. "Thank you, man."

Steve smiles back. "Don't mention it. So, how are you?"

Caught, TJ looks up and grimaces. "So... one thing I didn't consider: mom has access to the visitors list. So she knows that you've been here. She tried to get me to let her meet you but I pushed her off for now."

"Oh." Steve's smile falters and he twists his hands a little, uncomfortable. "I'm sorry if you're fighting with your mother now. I can just meet her, it's fine."

"We're not fighting," TJ waves him off. "But really, if you meet her, it's better if you meet my mom instead of Elaine Barrish."

The way he says her name is the same way Steve refers to Captain America, so Steve immediately gets it; he nods. "Alright. You know best, and anyways, it's your mom, so whatever you're comfortable with."

"It's not really that, but, yeah." A little awkwardly, TJ trails off and shrugs. Then he visibly shakes it off and changes topics. "So, have you seen Adventure Time or didn't you have the time yet?"

Apologetic, Steve shakes his head. Before he can reply, though, there's a brief knock on the door and it opens, admitting a young woman into the room. She looks upset, honing in on TJ immediately, mouth already opening when she spots Steve and falters. "Uhm."

"Hey Anne," TJ says with a weak smile. "So, this is Steve. Steve, this is my soon to be sister in law, Anne."

Manners kick in for both Steve and Anne; he gets to his feet and shakes her hand, and she smiles at him, polite as she greets him. But as soon as that's out of the way she falters again and looks back and forth between them. "I could, I could come back later?"

Steve just arrived, but she looked kind of upset when she got here, so before TJ can say anything he quickly shakes his head. "No, no, I meant to get some coffee anyway. I'll be back later, okay?" Before either of them can say anything he ducks out of the room and heads down the corridor towards the cafeteria. He's not really looking forwards to the coffee there, but during the day the personnel break rooms will be busier and he anyway doesn't want to make it a habit to steal their coffee.

He takes his time getting to the cafeteria, making a bathroom stop on the way and then taking his time selecting coffee and on a whim also buys a half dozen cinnamon rolls while he's at it. Then he takes his time getting back to TJ's room and tries not to use his Captain America aura on the guards so they'll search him again before he re-enters TJ's room – something which he's pretty sure is the rule – but they still refrain and just let him past with nods and smiles. So, as much time wasted as possible, he knocks on the door and waits until TJ calls out, "Come in," before entering.

TJ is alone, Anne gone, and he looks a little wry when he sees that Steve brought three coffee cups. Steve just shrugs at him, hands him one plus the bag of cinnamon rolls and then heads back outside to give the other two cups to the guards, who get very flustered, they're so flattered. They also ask him to sign the paper cups.

When Steve finally returns to TJ for good, TJ has removed the plastic lid from his cup and is sipping the coffee with a blissful expression. Suddenly Steve remembers the way they met and can't help but smile at him. "Good?"

"Coffee," TJ replies, like that's all he needs to say.

Well, really, looking at his expression, it is. "They really don't let you have coffee?" TJ's hands have stopped shaking between one visit and the next, and Steve can't think of a reason why the doctors would do that. Then again, he doesn't know much of medicine except the quick slap-dash kind practiced in the field.

"Nope," TJ shakes his head. His eyes lower to the cup in his hand and he lifts it, but doesn't drink, just breathes in the scent. "They want me to go to rehab," he reveals quietly.

Who wants that, is the first question Steve wants to ask, but he holds it back, mulls the statement over for a moment. "And what do you think?"

"I'm not an addict," TJ says immediately. "Maybe I drink a little more than is smart, but anything else, only at parties. And less than before. I'm definitely not a junkie."

Steve doesn't know TJ well enough to have any opinion either way, so he just nods. "Alright. Do they not believe you, or why-?"

TJ's eyes skitter off his face and his voice goes even quieter. "It's a mental hospital as well."

Oh. Thinking that over, Steve tilts his head. "And what do you think about that?"

TJ just shrugs, picking at his blanket and not meeting Steve's eyes.

This is... complicated. Steve has no idea how to handle this; he's never had a friend who was suicidal. Or at least not as far as he knew. Statistically, he probably does or did know people who are or were suicidal or at least depressed.

He licks his lips, hesitates, then points out softly, "You did try to kill yourself."

At that, TJ looks up, expression bleak, but he doesn't say anything, just waits for Steve to continue.

"So..." Steve tries, really not sure what to do or say, "maybe it's not a bad idea. If you don't want it there's no point, but that's what I think."

Nodding once, TJ lowers his gaze again. He looks small and sad all of a sudden, slumped in his bed as he is, and Steve can't help but reach out to touch him. His hands are still wrapped around his half-full coffee cup, so he settles for TJ's bare forearm, the henley's sleeves rolled up around his elbows. "What do you think?"

"Nobody's asked me that before," TJ reveals quietly, voice bleak. "They just told me that it's going to happen."

"And do you want to?" Steve asks, careful not to make any assumptions. Having heard that just now, he's thinking that it's all the more important that TJ tell him what he thinks or wants without Steve saying any of it for him.

TJ doesn't reply. After a moment he turns his head to stare out of the window, entire body still. Steve can barely even see him breathe.

"It was two," he suddenly says into the long silence.

"Two?" Steve repeats dumbly.

Now TJ turns his head to look at him, something tight around his eyes. "Two suicide attempts."

Oh. Steve can't help it, he knows he goes pale at the news, shock and horror flooding him. Hearing about the one was bad enough, but to hear now that that had actually been the second...

He tightens his grip on TJ's arm, hopefully reassuringly rather than possessively from fear. "I'm sorry," he says. "But I'm glad you didn't succeed."

TJ laughs at that, a bitter, painful sound. "I never succeed at anything, not even that."

"That's the depression talking," Steve shakes his head. "I'm sure that's not true, but the depression doesn't let you see it."

"Depression?" TJ repeats. "I'm not-" He deflates suddenly. "Fuck, who am I kidding? Yeah, I'm depressed." He meets Steve's eyes again, expression hopeless. "What now?"

"Now, you try to do something about it," Steve suggests, soft but firm. "But I think it's gotten too far for anyone to manage this on their own."

TJ looks at him for a moment, then sighs. "Okay."


	4. Plans

The day after, Friday, TJ is transferred to the rehab clinic slash mental hospital. Steve doesn't get to see him beforehand, but he comes for a visit on Sunday, bringing the rest of the Harry Potter series, a puzzle book and the deck of cards. Somehow, he didn't realize until he was on his way home after his last visit what mental hospital really means. It means that TJ isn't doing great – which, granted, he knew before – but more importantly, that he isn't going to get better after a week or two of bed rest.

Thankfully he realized this before actually going to visit TJ there, because when he gets to the hospital they check the things he's brought and his clothes for things like strings or anything else a moderately creative person might use to kill themselves. He has to take off his belt and his shoes and even his hoodie – well, he could have kept the hoodie but he considered the prospect of having to re-string the hood and decided that taking it off was preferable. At least they give him replacement shoes, even if they're slippers, the kind hotels have. If he hadn't been prepared, he would probably have been shocked and dismayed that all this is necessary.

When they finally let him inside, they lead him into a sort of big room with lots of small tables and a couple of people – other visitors, presumably. Initially he doesn't recognize who's visitor and who's patient, but he quickly figures out that the patients seem to be all dressed in the comfy sort of clothes people only wear at home or when they do sports. TJ is among them, clad in gray sweatpants and a shirt with long sleeves. He's sitting at a table and staring out the window, one leg jiggling.

"Hey," Steve says when he arrives at his table, a bit nervous. TJ turns to look at him, then does a bit of a double-take.

"Did your shirt shrink in the wash?" he asks.

Confused, Steve blinks down at the t-shirt he's wearing. "No?"

TJ blinks, then sighs and drops his head, runs a hand through his hair. When he looks up again his expression is rueful. "Hey."

"Hey," Steve replies, smiling a bit. He puts the cloth bag with the small handles they gave him to replace the one with long handles he brought on the table. "I got you some things so you won't get too bored in here."

"That's good, because I can already guarantee that's going to happen," TJ immediately replies, pulling the bag over to check inside. When he looks up again he's grinning. "And you just helped stave it off for about a week, I'd say."

Steve smiles. "Good." He hesitates for a moment, not sure if "how are you" is a good question to ask since it's one TJ tends to evade answering, but he does want to know. Eventually he finds a way around it. "How do you like it here?"

TJ shrugs, pushing the bag aside and settling down a bit, supporting his head on his chin as he peers up at Steve from underneath his eyelashes. "Been here for barely two days and I can already tell that it's mostly boring. The movies were wrong. All they do here is therapy. No straight jackets, no padded rooms, no forced medication." He frowns a bit. "At least not in this ward."

Aware of the reputation of mental hospitals, Steve grimaces. "Well, that's good?"

TJ shrugs, eyes skittering to the window again. "I have to talk to a therapist every day. There's group therapy too, and art therapy, music therapy, some sort of body awareness therapy. All several times a week. If I wanted to I could go from therapy session to therapy session all day."

"Well, that sounds... stressful." Steve grimaces. "Do you have to go?"

"Nah, it's voluntary. Sort of. I do have to do two things, but only twice a week each, and this is my first week so I get a grace period. I just have to see the doctor every day." Shrugging again, TJ focuses back on Steve. "Basically we're all just going to wait until I get better." He grimaces. "And figure out a treatment plan for me for when I get out of here."

Slowly, Steve nods. "So you're not going to stay here long?"

TJ frowns at the table. "Until I'm not suicidal anymore, I guess. Though I'm not really suicidal, so."

"You're not?" Steve asks curiously, careful to keep any sort of judgment or surprise at the pronouncement from his tone.

"Not in that way. It's not for me they're taking your shoelaces and whatever for." Waving his hand a bit, TJ then folds both arms on the table and sets his chin on them, peering up at Steve from even further down. With his messy hair it looks completely adorable, despite the pale tone of his skin and the shadows under his eyes.

"Well, you did try to kill yourself," Steve points out neutrally, copying TJ's posture because he doesn't want to be looked up to in this conversation. TJ smiles at him for it, small but genuine, the first one since Steve got here.

"Yeah. I only do that when I'm drunk though, and that's not going to happen in here," TJ says. "You know, apart from anyone here, you're the only one who talks about it."

Steve blinks, a little surprised. "How so?"

As much as he can in his position, TJ shrugs. "Everybody else just tiptoes around it. The closest they get to talking about it is when they talk about when I'm better, like I don't need to be not good right now to get better later."

It takes Steve a moment to parse that. "Do you want to talk to them about it?"

TJ just shrugs, not replying, and in the silence Steve realizes that maybe his question was a bit too intimate. So he nods towards the bag on the table and suggests, "Want to play some cards?"

It's a completely obvious change of topic, but TJ goes with it, and after a couple of games he doesn't seem so restless and unsettled anymore, smiling more freely.

Over the next couple of weeks he visits TJ regularly. At first just twice a week (he figures that's as regularly as is acceptable for a friend), but his first visit in week two TJ tells him just how bored he is. Talking to people is okay enough but everybody's pretty busy being depressed or having other types of disorders and it's really just a waiting game, waiting to get better, and his family are all busy – they do visit as much as they can, but. Sometimes they just call instead. So Steve, who still considers himself on book duty, steps up the visits to three times a week. Well, at first he just suggests it, and TJ gets all embarrassed.

"That's not what I meant," he immediately says, ducking his head. "I know you're busy too. I was just whining, man."

But it's not just that, Steve can tell. He's never been in a place like this but he can imagine it, a little, how much of a disconnect to the world it must be when all TJ can do all day is decide between the TV and a book, group therapy and art therapy and one on one therapy. Besides... he shrugs a bit. "Not like I have a lot to do. Being on call means I basically just wait around for them to call me when there's an emergency." He does a bit more at SHIELD, but not much. His skillset isn't unique, even if his abilities are. But there aren't many missions that absolutely require someone of his abilities, and the STRIKE teams are well-practiced units. They don't often need him to ride along on a mission.

TJ squints a little, searching for something he doesn't seem to find because slowly, he relaxes a little. "Okay," he agrees. "If that's what you want."

"It's what I want," Steve says firmly, and he doesn't think he imagines the way TJ ducks his head, flushes a little.

So from then on Steve visits TJ for three times a week, regularly. Not always the same days – he does do training exercises, mostly for new recruits, but sometimes for himself too, and sometimes he just has to show up at the Triskelion for what seems like just because – but TJ's hospital isn't far out and the visiting hours are pretty generous, so it works out. He witnesses TJ gradually get better, from bitter and self-deprecating to something a little more calm, a little more realistic. Not exactly positive, there are a lot of messed up things in TJ's life that he unfortunately has little to no control over, but slowly, he seems to get more settled. He even, this he reveals to Steve confidentially, stays longer at the hospital than he has to strictly speaking. His doctor offered him the choice to leave or stay and he chose to stay, without the doctor revealing any of that to his family.

"So do you like it here after all?" Steve asks after TJ has told him. Not that TJ hates it as much as at the beginning – his forced neutrality quickly made way for resentment that he only slowly got over – but Steve wouldn't have thought he'd choose to stay here longer than he has to. Then again, it's been a while since they talked about the hospital like this.

"I wouldn't put it like that," TJ hedges. "It's more... my whole life, I never really got a break. People were always watching me, pretty much all of my secrets didn't stay mine, much less secrets, for long. Everybody was always up in my business. Sure, they still are here, but it's different. This is a safe space to figure some shit out, you know?"

Steve doesn't really know, but he can imagine, so he nods. A little later, TJ admits that if he got out now, he doesn't know if he wouldn't crumble under the pressure again, so he chooses to stay until he can be more sure. "The doctor is great," he says. "A buffer between me and mom, mostly. I don't have to explain shit to her myself. She never accepts what I tell her anyway."

But, of course, he has to learn to talk to her and to assert himself. Against his mother primarily, whom he loves but who's also a very strong, almost forceful personality going by the way TJ describes her. And eventually his doctor encourages TJ to confront his family – every member, ranging from his grandmother over his parents down to his twin brother – and talk about difficult things they've never or only rarely talked about.

TJ makes it, though. Steve only ever hears about it afterwards, from TJ, and he knows that some things TJ holds back, which is perfectly alright of course. But he can see the change in TJ as he learns that there are other ways to get rid of the pressure than try to avoid or escape it.

And TJ isn't the only one who changes in those months of his stay at the hospital. Steve does as well. He doesn't need to be especially observant to know that he's lonely, still feels disconnected from the world; he tries but it's difficult. He has essentially two friends apart from TJ, Natasha whom he works with and doesn't see as often as he (and maybe she, it's difficult to tell) would like outside of work, and Sam, whom he met running and who he sees at the VA when he goes to meetings. But all in all, apart from work, his life is pretty empty. He goes to galleries sometimes or out to explore the city, but he does it on his own most of the time and that can get pretty, well, lonely. Just visiting TJ gives his life an additional purpose, something he does three times a week and can look forward to.

They don't just talk about TJ's problems, they talk about his own too. Not necessarily the really bad things, memories of the war; those Steve prefers to discuss with people who can actually relate at VA meetings. Though he does bring it up once or twice with TJ, just because it's on his mind and because he wants to know what TJ has to say. But even the things Steve wouldn't have thought to bring up if somebody asked him what bothers him in his life come up eventually. For example, while he was still living in New York Steve had a therapist, but when he moved to be closer to SHIELD HQ he didn't make the effort to find a new one in DC. After a couple of weeks TJ convinces him to at least try, since in hindsight Steve thinks that therapy helped him. Turns out it's still helpful.

They talk about everything, basically. TJ is pretty sharp and sometimes sees things with an insight and gradually with a learned pragmatism that catches Steve a little off-guard. Over the weeks and months he spends at the hospital, TJ also develops the habit to cut right down to the chase, something which Steve quickly learns to appreciate. Turns out his life could always do with another no-nonsense person.

And gradually, TJ becomes more than that. Perhaps Steve should have foreseen it, what with how often they see each other, but he sees Sam two to three times a week too, sometimes even more often. Sam is a very important person to him, but in a different way, somehow.

However, Steve doesn't realize in just what way until one day TJ tells him that he's ready to leave the hospital. It comes a little out of nowhere to Steve, though in hindsight, it shouldn't have: TJ had been getting more and more ready to leave, talking about what he was going to do once he was outside with a lot less apprehension and more enthusiasm. But it still hits Steve with a bit of a jolt.

His first reaction is happiness; he beams. "That's great!"

TJ smiles a little shyly, ducking his head some. "Yeah."

"Really, that's wonderful, TJ," Steve says, reaching out to put a hand on his arm. They're sitting outside on a bench in the park-like gardens of the hospital. The weather's been getting colder, so they're making as much use as they can of being outside while they still can.

"So, you think I'm ready?" TJ asks, looking up at him. He must be not sure of Steve's reply, going by his unsure expression and tone, but Steve has absolutely no idea why that would be.

He blinks, surprised. "Of course!"

Only that was a little bit too much conviction, because TJ's brows furrow and his eyes glide to the side. "Do you think I should have gotten out sooner?"

"No," Steve immediately replies, promptly enough that, surprised, TJ looks at him. "I think you should leave when you feel ready. And you do, right?"

"Yeah," TJ confirms, nodding. "I mean, I'm not sure or anything. But I've been not sure for weeks and I'm starting to think I won't ever be a hundred percent sure. But I feel ready. I don't think I'll go back to how things were before too easily if I leave now."

Steve smiles. "That's good."

TJ nods and licks his lips, eyes flickering to Steve before sliding away again. "Yeah. I've been here for three months, that's practically an eternity. Most people probably don't even remember me anyway. Not that I want them to," he adds hastily. "And... I think that if I start to slip, I'll be aware of it now. And I can ask for help." He glances at Steve, just briefly, but Steve immediately nods.

"You can call me anytime you want to, no matter what time."

Ducking his head, TJ turns his face away a little as if that will hide his shy smile and flush. "Y-yeah. I appreciate it. And anyway, I'll still keep up with therapy, only with a different therapist. And I can come back here anytime I need to, the doctor said."

"So if this doesn't work out, you have a safe place to go," Steve nods.

"More than one." TJ glances at Steve, one corner of his mouth curling up briefly. "It's strange. When I got here I wanted to leave again as quickly as possible and now, three months later, here I am. Not sure I want to leave."

Shrugging a bit, Steve nudges him with his shoulder. "It's completely your decision whether you stay or go or come back."

TJ nods, staring into the distance again in that way he does when his thoughts are somewhere else. "My mom wants me to come stay with her."

That... well. Keeping his thoughts to himself, Steve nods slowly. "Do you want to?"

There's a long pause, the only sound the wind in the leaves of the trees, rustling gently. And then TJ states, very clearly, "No."

When Steve turns his head TJ is already looking at him, meeting his eyes head-on. "I don't think that'd be a good idea. I'm thirty years old, for fuck's sake, and if three months in a mental hospital don't enable me to live on my own maybe I shouldn't leave in the first place."

"It doesn't matter how old you are or how long you stayed here," Steve points out automatically.

TJ smiles ruefully. "You're not going to let me get away with that, are you? I think..." He shakes his head. "I love my mom and I know she loves me, but the world she lives in has too much pressure for me. I grew up surrounded by it and look where it landed me." Gesturing around him, he leans back a little in his seat, head tilted to still meet Steve's eyes. "I thought that's just the way it is, but I've seen how you handle it. You leave Captain America at the door when you go home, and you don't pick him up again until you have to, when someone recognizes you or something. My mom..." He shakes his head. "She doesn't leave the politician at the door. She brings her home. I mean I get it, dad's a politician too and Doug works for her, but that's what it's all about at home, you know? There's no escape. I never wanted that."

Steve knows; they've talked about it before. He still thinks it's horrible, the situation TJ was thrust into as a teenager, being outed without his consent and hounded by the paparazzi ever since. Being fully aware that he's been used and will continue to be used as a tool to hurt his father then and his mother now is awful. And Steve knows it's not his parents' fault, but even though it's not his place, he can't help but be a little annoyed at them. They didn't cause it, but they were still the ones who put TJ into that situation, and who didn't sufficiently protect him from the outcome.

But, well. It's not anything that can be helped now and it's really not Steve's place to criticize anyone. He doesn't really know what it's like. What he knows, though, is that TJ's parents _chose_ to enter the public circus, whereas TJ was thrust into it with no choice and no real way to escape.

But that's not the topic now, and it seems like TJ isn't finished yet, is just collecting his thoughts, so Steve nods and just waits, looking at him. Eventually TJ meets his eyes again and says, "I love her, I love them, but it's not good for me, and I don't want it. I don't want to live there."

"Then don't," Steve says.

TJ laughs. "When you say it it sounds really easy. But it's hard to tell my mom no."

"You can do it, though," Steve points out, reaching out to touch TJ's arm. "You've done it before."

Slowly, TJ nods. "I have." His expression turns a little more intense; he leans a little towards Steve. "Not often in a way that meant something, though. When I told her no it was usually passive-aggressive because I meant to hurt her. I tend to avoid the real issues." That's something he's learned about himself in therapy, both the being honest with himself about his own behavior and feelings, and the talking about it frankly. Steve really likes it, that honesty and matter-of-factness. "I told her no about you, though, Steve," TJ says, and Steve blinks.

"How so?" Then he remembers. "Right, about meeting me?"

TJ nods. "My mom doesn't give up, you realize that? She would have arranged it somehow, maybe she would have run into you when you visited me or something. She wanted it, so she would have made it happen. But I told her no. I told her I don't want that. And I kept saying no." He licks his lips. "Partially because you didn't want to, but mostly because I didn't want to."

Touched, Steve smiles. "That's great! And I really appreciate it, thank you." He knows how difficult it is for TJ to stand up to his mother, who has a rather forceful personality from what he's told Steve and who doesn't seem to be aware that not everyone is able to express their wants and needs so clearly, and that her son is one of those people. Or maybe she's rather not aware of what it does to TJ when she doesn't back down. It's not precisely her fault, but she should be more sensitive to her son's needs, Steve thinks.

Not that it's any of his business.

So he smiles and says, "So you can do it, you just need to practice a little." He pauses, trying to formulate what he's going to say next. "And you were right, I didn't and don't really want to meet Elaine Barrish. Your mother, sure, but not really the politician."

"The problem is that they're not really as separate with her as it is with you," TJ points out. Briefly, he glances away. "I told her... I told her I don't want her to use me for her political gain or agenda. She didn't bring it up again after that. The thing is, Steve..." He shifts a little, turning his body more towards Steve as he looks him straight in the eye. Steve automatically copies the gesture. "I... want you to myself, in a way. I'm glad to have you as a friend," TJ adds, voice wavering just a little, betraying his nervousness. "And I hope we'll stay friends. But I was wondering if you..." He swallows. "If you'd like to go on a date with me. When I'm out of here, of course."

Steve blinks and thinks, oh.

 _Oh._ That explains... a lot. He tries to process that – not TJ's question, rather his response to it, which is a full and resounding _yes._ Yes, he wants that. A lot. It's just really strange because he never thought about it like that before. He's... alright, he's thought about TJ. Who wouldn't? He's gorgeous, inside and out. But Steve never considered it a possibility, not with where TJ is in life right now.

But he asked and that, that puts a new spin on everything again.

Steve is so lost in thought he doesn't realize he hasn't said a word until TJ shifts, gaze lowering as his shoulders pull up a little, and oh fuck, he never gave a reply. "Yes!" he blurts, nodding to reinforce it when TJ's head whips up to stare at him. "I'd love to. I'd really like that."

"You..." TJ blinks, then his face blooms into a smile, sweet and radiant. "Really?"

"Of course." Returning the smile, Steve ducks his head a little. "I meant it when I said I'd love to."

"Great," TJ says. "That's... great." He ducks his head as well, glancing at Steve from the corner of his eyes. "I wasn't sure- well I thought you'd say no actually but I promised myself I'd ask."

"You did, and I said yes," Steve points out with a smile. "When you get out of here?"

TJ nods. "Yeah. I have to sort some things out but yeah. In about two or three weeks?"

"Works for me," Steve agrees. He somehow can't seem to stop smiling, or looking at TJ.

"Great," TJ says, and leans in to press his lips to Steve's.

Caught completely off-guard, Steve at first just blinks like an idiot, but right when it seems like TJ is going to pull away he thankfully regains his wits and returns the kiss, leans into TJ and closes his eyes to focus fully on the sensation of soft, warm lips against his. TJ makes a small sound in his throat, mouth parting just a little, and Steve can't help but open his mouth as well and then their tongues are touching and this isn't just a gentle, sweet first kiss anymore, it's heavier, full of promise and intent. TJ's eyes have gone dark by the time they pull apart to regain their breath, and it's all Steve can do not to lean in again, capture his red, swollen lips in another kiss.

"So," TJ pants, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. Steve finds himself unable to look away from that.

"Yeah," he agrees belatedly and wonders a moment later what he just agreed to. He licks his own lips as well and nearly moans at the way TJ's eyes immediately hone in on them, and it's only then that he notices that TJ's hand is on his chest, his hand on TJ's knee. When did that happen?

He flexes his fingers and TJ glances down, then looks up again, and it looks like he's about to ask something, say something that Steve's not sure would be a good idea right now, so he blurts, "Date."

"Yeah," TJ agrees, the pause just barely there.

By unspoken agreement, they don't kiss again, but there's a tension between them now, a certain heaviness. Nothing bad, but it's something that puts pauses in their conversation, breaks they spend looking at each other. Previously innocuous touches suddenly feel more meaningful; Steve notices all of them in a wholly new way.

But they don't kiss again. Not that day, not during the two other visits to him Steve makes before TJ does leave the hospital, and not immediately afterwards either. Steve wants to – can't stop thinking about that kiss, the low-burning fire it sparked that makes him all the more how attracted he is to TJ. But he's not going to do anything while TJ's world is overturning as he prepares to leave hospital and get back into civilian life. He can continue supporting TJ and being his friend, and wait.


	5. A Date

After hospital, TJ doesn't move into his old apartment but into a new one in a different part of town – new life, change of scenery and all that. His mother, TJ tells Steve, had some difficulties accepting that he wouldn't move in with her, but TJ says that's because she's worried he'll relapse. She apparently wants to keep a close eye on him. Not moving in with her puts an end to that idea, but TJ's family still step up how often they see TJ or have TJ over to visit them compared to how often they saw him while he was at the hospital. So, the first three weeks after he's out TJ is rather busy – less with moving, all of which was taken care of by a company before he even left hospital, and more with his family and settling into civilian life again, setting up with his new therapist and just adapting to being out of his safety bubble. Steve still sees him twice a week during that time, mostly at TJ's place, though they meet up in a cafe once and at Steve's apartment once as well. But Steve doesn't bring the date up again until TJ does. They're on the phone, because now that TJ has his mobile back – or a new one, rather, with a new, drastically slimmed down contacts list – they spend a lot of time on it, talking every day. Steve isn't really into texting but he makes a point of replying whenever TJ writes to him.

"So, about that date," TJ drawls. His voice echoes a little because he's in the bathroom – the bathtub, even, phone on speaker, and Steve hasn't let him know but he's all kinds of distracted at the thought of TJ, naked in hot water. He's seen that tub, it's big enough to comfortably fit Steve in as well.

"Yes," Steve says. On the other end he hears light splashing of water and tries really hard not to imagine what TJ might be doing right now. In hindsight, he's starting to wonder if every time TJ flashed some skin in his presence, reaching for something high up on a shelf or carelessly throwing himself onto the sofa, seemingly unaware of how his shirt rode up, wasn't so innocent after all. Because this? Calling Steve while he's in the bathtub? There's nothing subtle about that.

Not that Steve minds in the least. He's had enough time since TJ's question made him aware of his own feelings to think about it, and he wants this. Wants TJ, with his sweet smiles and blunt honesty, his strength and his vulnerability. TJ isn't like anybody he's ever met, and Steve just... wants.

"Do you have any plans this Friday?" TJ asks. It's Wednesday.

Steve licks his lips. "I do now. Do you have a plan or do you want to come to mine for dinner?"

"Your place?" TJ asks, a little surprised. "Yeah, we can do that."

Why does he sound surprised? Brows furrowing, Steve glances around his living room. It's nice enough – not as spacious as TJ's, but it's comfortable. As is his bedroom, which TJ had seen as well, barging in when he saw Steve's apartment the first time under the guise of a tour. Come to think, the way he'd thrown himself onto the bed and rolled around a little before grinning up at Steve hadn't been very innocuous either.

Still, TJ hadn't sounded very enthusiastic at the suggestion. Maybe he wants a more neutral location for their date? It does make sense, in case it doesn't go well. "Do you not want to? I was planning to make dinner but we could go to a restaurant instead?"

"No!" TJ says quickly, accompanied by a splashing sound like he just sat up. "I mean, I want to. You're going to cook for me? By yourself?"

"Yes," Steve confirms, a joke on the tip of his tongue about how he learned to feed himself pretty early on, but at the last moment he remembers that TJ didn't. TJ has take-out, cereal, and when he still lived at home, they had a cook. Still have, but a different one – when he visited for the first time after his hospital stay, TJ remarked offhandedly to Steve that his mom changed cooks and the new one does cordon bleu better.

"Awesome," TJ says, sounding almost giddy, and here is that enthusiasm Steve had been missing earlier. "I can't remember the last time somebody cooked for me. What are you going to make?"

Er. Damn. "Nothing too complicated. You'll just have to wait and see."

"I guess I will," TJ teases. "What time? Seven?"

"Seven sounds good," Steve agrees.

After they hang up, he sends about half an hour researching recipes and then he goes grocery shopping. And he also buys lube and condoms, because, well. It's better to be prepared, right? If TJ doesn't want to have sex yet that's fine, Steve can wait, but if he wants to, they're not going to be hindered by practicalities like this.

They don't see each other on Thursday, but they text a little and in the evening TJ calls him to talk to him while he watches some show involving models or something, people too beautiful to be real anyhow, nothing Steve has much to say to. TJ has all the more to say, though, mostly about their choices in clothing, but also about their conduct. "I know I'm super stereotypical," he'd said to Steve at one point – he didn't start watching the show only after he got out of the hospital, they had TVs there too – "but I just can't resist." Normal people, according to TJ, are boring, something which Steve doesn't really agree with but he doesn't like or understand any of these invasive modern "reality" TV shows, real people or no, so he just listens to TJ complain while he does his laundry. It's entertaining enough in its own right.

On Friday, they just text a little, nothing more, and less than they usually would. But Steve doesn't worry: they have a date. He spends most of the day cleaning his whole place, including changing the sheets, which he needed to do anyway so there's nothing presumptuous about it. Really.

The dish he picked – lemon chicken with pasta – is relatively simple to make, and it's only after he's put the chicken in the oven and now has half an hour before he needs to get started on the pasta that he realizes that a) he really should shower and b) he has no idea what to wear. Even if they're not going out, it's still a date after all and he wants to look his best. Not that TJ hasn't seen him enough the past couple of weeks not to know what he looks like, but still. It's the principle of the thing.

In the end Steve settles for a nice pair of jeans and a dress shirt, and at the last moment a v-neck on top. Not the most exciting combination but he looks presentable and hopefully TJ won't mind. Maybe he would have found something better with more time, but he does need to get started on the pasta, and then his doorbell is already ringing and it's TJ.

Steve is a little breathless when he opens the door, and seeing TJ doesn't help him regain his breath any. He's leaning in the doorway, clad all in black, slacks and a fitted dress shirt, looking razor sharp. His hair is styled artfully messy, and when Steve opens the door he looks up at him from below his eyelashes, a slow smile curling his lips that widens when he sees the full impact the picture he makes has on Steve.

"Hey," TJ says after a moment, pushes off the doorway and steps into the apartment and into Steve's space. Their eyes lock and Steve still can't breathe right, something captivating in the twinkle in TJ's eyes, and then TJ steps even closer, takes the door from him and pushes it closed behind him without once looking away from Steve. As soon as it's shut, the click loud in the silence between them, TJ leans up and presses his lips to Steve's.

It's like some sort of switch is released; all of a sudden Steve can move again, lean into the kiss and put his hands on TJ, one on his waist, the other cupping his face. Initially TJ seems startled, but then he throws himself into the kiss, metaphorically as well as almost physically as he leans against Steve, wraps one arm around his shoulders, the other around his waist, lips moving enthusiastically against Steve's.

The kiss is just as devastating as their first – maybe even more so. When they pull away Steve's lips are tingling and he's seriously considering switching the stove off and just taking TJ to bed, they can always reheat the food, but as irresistible as TJ looks, this is a date, not just a hook-up. Their first date, at that. Steve wants to do at least the first one right.

So, if reluctantly, he steps away from TJ, licks his lips and smiles. "Hey."

Humming, TJ licks his lips as well, gaze focused on Steve's mouth. A moment later he seems to catch himself and looks up again, meets Steve's eyes and grins. "Where are we going?"

Surprised, Steve blinks, thinking nowhere, they're staying here, but then he realizes TJ means where in his place. The kitchen is big enough for a kitchen table but isn't very romantic, and the living room doesn't have a table apart from the coffee table, not the ideal place for a date dinner.

Well, since the kitchen didn't seem like the best setting for a date to Steve he switched furniture around a bit, made some room and put the kitchen table in the living room, covered it with a nice tablecloth and put up a couple of candles.

TJ looks delighted when Steve guides him there, arm offered. "You're going all out, are you?" he comments when Steve pulls out the chair for him.

"Of course," Steve confirms, almost affronted. This is a _date._ Of course he'll make an effort.

He pours white wine for both of them – he even went and got an expensive one, because normally he doesn't notice much but there are moments when he's starkly aware of the class difference between them, and when he considered wine choices was one of those times. Then he goes to fill their plates with lemon chicken and pasta, returning the leftover food to the still-warm oven.

"If you want seconds, let me know," he says as he sets the plate down in front of TJ. "Lemon chicken and pasta with rosemary."

"Homemade," TJ emphasizes, looking eager as he waits for Steve to sit down.

"Yes," Steve confirms.

TJ beams at him, and Steve smiles. And because TJ was raised with manners Steve wasn't – the type the people Steve grew up with and among would have called stuck-up – they clink glasses before their silverware even so much as touches their food. "To our date," TJ says, serious but smiling, closed-mouthed and bright.

"To our date," Steve returns, and they sip the wine, then get started on eating.

TJ's first question is about how Steve made the pasta. "I've always wondered," he says, meticulously rolling up a forkful with a spoon. "Because there's not really any sauce. Does the pasta get boiled with the lemon juice?"

So Steve, something he definitely didn't anticipate, ends up describing the process of how he made both the past and the chicken. Neither were complicated to make, which he doesn't hide, but TJ still somehow seems fascinated.

"It's not that I don't know how to cook," he says when he notices Steve's reaction to his curiosity. Then he pauses and grimaces. "Well actually, it _is_ that I don't know how to cook. I can make simple things, like heat stuff up in the microwave, but I only tried to make pasta twice and it went wrong both times. I just have no talent in the kitchen."

"It's really mostly practice," Steve shrugs. "I mean, for me. Of course there are people with a talent. But I still think a lot of it is practice, and timing. Managing it so everything is done at the same time, that's probably the hardest part."

TJ hums in vague agreement and starts to interrogate Steve on the most complicated dishes he's made to date, which turns into Steve recounting every time things went spectacularly wrong for him in the kitchen. From there they talk about the best dishes they've had and the different cuisines of different countries they've tried – with TJ having a wider range of experience, especially abroad; the best Steve can offer of eating abroad while not being in a war was in the equivalent of food trucks. Every now and then a mission stalled, or involved waiting periods, or public transport, which generally also means layovers. He doesn't really have a lot to offer, at least not like TJ does.

Conversation flows easily between them, which is relieving. Not that Steve worried overly, they've been talking for over three months now, but still, the date aspect could have put an awkward spin on things. He'd know, he's been there.

But they have no problems; no awkward silences, no skittish looks or uncomfortable shifting. The mood is still charged between them, though, intense. This is clearly different from the other times they've eaten together, they look at each other more, don't pretend their eyes don't wander, and sometimes one of them will smile and the other will smile back, like they're sharing a secret. Steve doesn't really know what that secret is but he does know that as the evening progresses, the tension in him slowly builds up. It's a nice kind of tension, but it still makes him more alert, not quite nervous but attentive.

After the main course Steve pulls out dessert, a simple white chocolate mousse with raspberry sauce. The first spoonful makes TJ honest-to-god moan, eyes fluttering shut, expression blissful, and suddenly Steve is a lot less mystified by the tension in him.

He _wants._ He wants for TJ to make that noise again, this time not because of Steve's cooking but because of what Steve is doing with him, he wants to see TJ out of his clothes because as gorgeous as he looks now, he's bound to be even more breathtaking clad in absolutely nothing.

But TJ might not want to, tonight, he reminds himself, and sticks to licking his spoon clean, the flavor of white chocolate and intense raspberry on his tongue.

They finish dessert, and if TJ notices how much time Steve spends staring at his mouth, he doesn't let on. They discuss the merits of white vs dark chocolate – Steve prefers dark chocolate, but he knows TJ loves white chocolate, which is how this dessert came to be.

"You remember that?" TJ asks, startled, spoon arrested in mid-air.

Steve blinks. "Did you think it was an accident that the care packages were more and more tailored to your taste?"

TJ blinks as well. "Oh," he says, and flushes a little. He stares at Steve for a moment, then focuses back on his spoon of white chocolate, still suspended. Slowly he leads it into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as his lips wrap around the stem of the spoon, a small sound escaping him as the flavor hits his tongue.

Steve swallows hard and shifts in his seat a little, and decides to let the dishes be for the moment. Standing up right now would not be a good idea.

Five minutes later TJ is finally finished with his portion of dessert, the last bit of which he's eaten terribly slow and enjoyed tortuously. Steve bites his lower lip and doesn't know whether to be grateful or disappointed and wishes he'd made more dessert so he could offer seconds. On the other hand, if he had, he'd have to get up and that would be pretty embarrassing.

With a very satisfied smile TJ puts his spoon down and smiles at Steve, almost smugly. He sits back in his chair and, without pulling his gaze away from Steve's, takes a mouthful of wine that he swallows slowly, eyes slitting like a satisfied cat's. Then he sets the wine glass down and says, "Can I blow you now?"

Electrified, Steve's spine straightens and he feels his eyes widen. "Uh," he makes, then his brain manages to catch up with TJ's demand more than a request, and he hastily adds, "Yes! If you want to, I mean."

"Steve," TJ says very slowly. "Yes." He rises from his chair, graceful and completely unashamed at the visible bulge in his slacks, and walks around the table. "I would have gone on my knees for you right when we met if you'd given any indication you wanted to," he continues and slides to his knees next to Steve's chair, smooth as silk. Somehow, the gesture that should have been submissive is challenging instead.

Steve swallows and turns in his chair, then turns his chair so he's facing TJ head on, slides a little lower in his seat and lets his legs fall open. "When we met I felt guilty for noticing how pretty you were," he reveals lowly. TJ smiles, first at him, then at his cock, bulging in his jeans, and on his knees walks closer, puts his hands on Steve's thighs and slides them up to his belt. Deftly his hands undo the clasp and Steve, before he completely loses the wherewithal to think clearly, adds, "I don't want you 'cause you're pretty though."

TJ looks up at him at that, an almost shy look from between his eyelashes before he deliberately distracts them both by pulling Steve's jeans and underwear both down. To aid him Steve first lifts his hips, then closes his legs a little so TJ can slide his pants down past his knees and get fully between Steve's thighs, falling open for him. His gaze is focused on Steve's cock, well on its way to fully hard, and Steve shivers at the look on TJ's face, openly hungry.

He doesn't know what he's expecting – probably nothing; not that he hasn't thought about this (a lot, in great detail, it doesn't feel weird to admit it now), but he certainly didn't expect to find himself in this position so soon – but TJ subverts all expectations. When he wraps his hand around Steve's cock and pulls a little Steve shivers and thinks TJ is going to get acquaintance with his cock first, and the next second he finds himself moaning loudly, openly as he suddenly finds his cock surrounded by wet heat, TJ's mouth sliding down over him, lips open wide. Fuck, just the way he looks is enough to preoccupy Steve's attention for days, and the way he _feels_... Steve has had his cock sucked before, and not just a handful of times, but this is hands down the best suckjob he's ever had, and it's barely even started.

"Fuck," it escapes him, strangled and astounded, but TJ doesn't look up at him again; his eyes are fluttering shut the same way they did when he put a spoonful of dessert in his mouth and Steve doesn't think he will ever be able to watch TJ enjoy white chocolate again without thinking of this.

TJ sinks down on him until Steve's cock hits the back of his throat, tight hot wetness, and then he just goes still, lets Steve's cock rest there, eyes closed and expression almost peaceful. He's clearly loving this, and that's actually more of a turn-on than the sensation itself.

Steve whimpers, fingers clamped tight into his thighs, and couldn't possibly take his eyes off TJ. And then TJ swallows, a spark of sensation, and slowly pulls off, cool air on Steve's cock where it's wet with saliva, and if Steve had known this would happen he'd have taken the edge off in the shower, because the sight of TJ alone would be enough already to come. He's legitimately worried he'll come far too soon.

When he reaches the head of Steve's cock TJ pauses, lips forming a tight ring just underneath, and sucks hard, tongue swirling. Steve curses at the onslaught of pleasure and tenses all his muscles, focusing on not allowing his hips to twitch forwards, thrust his cock into that hot mouth, greedy for more of that heavenly feeling. He's rewarded for his restraint by TJ setting off to hit all of Steve's hotspots, focusing on exploring every part of Steve's cock. Quickly, it becomes obvious that he's an expert at this. He knows exactly where to press his tongue, when to tuck in his teeth, when to suck and when to let up the pressure, how much time he should spend on a particular spot, when to pull off and when to sink down again: every action of his enhances what came before. He plays Steve like an instrument, and Steve loves every second of it, can't take his eyes off him. It's all he can do not to come, fingernails digging into his skin and breath inhaled in quick gasps.

Far too soon – god, if he could, he'd spend days and days like this, with TJ on his knees between his thighs; maybe at one point he'd regain enough self control to touch TJ, cup his face, tangle his fingers in his hair. Not to direct him – TJ very emphatically doesn't need any guiding whatsoever – but simply to touch him, be in contact.

That's not going to happen today, though. Steve feels coiled like a spring, like if he loses focus even just a little he'll let go completely and come, which is about the last thing he wants. But it's going to happen; he feels his climax build up in him, inexorable and much faster than he'd like. He's lucky he has the wherewithal to give a warning. "TJ," he gasps, not the first time since TJ went to his knees that his name passed Steve's lips, which might be why TJ at first doesn't react. "TJ," Steve tries again, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. "I'm going to-"

He can't continue, and when TJ instead of pulling off sinks further down on him his first thought is that TJ hasn't understood him, but then TJ pauses, looks up at him and _hums_. With how far Steve is down his throat it's like the vibration goes right through his cock down into his center where the pleasure is building up rapidly, and though he'd been expecting it, still it comes as a surprise when it crests in him and he comes so hard he feels it in his toes. A loud groan falls from Steve's lips as he feels himself spill in TJ's mouth, down his throat, and fuck, TJ just lets him come, keeps him in his mouth and swallows. The sensation sends fresh sparks through Steve and he gasps, moans, and he's probably looking at TJ like a revelation but fuck. He's honestly not sure he's ever come so hard.

When the pleasure ebbs TJ slowly pulls off, sucking conscientiously to keep him clean, swallowing, and then he gently lets Steve's cock fall from his swollen, cherry red lips. His pupils are blown when he looks up at Steve like sin personified, and it's only then that Steve notices, realizes that one of TJ's hands is working between his legs. He's been jerking himself off while sucking Steve's cock, and fuck, but that realization does _things_ to Steve. Even he with his enhanced stamina can't come again so quickly but damn, he would if he could, just from that alone.

It also makes him uncomfortably aware of how selfish he's been, just sitting here and letting TJ suck him, not doing anything to make him feel good, and so he unclenches his hands from his thighs and cups TJ's face, lurches down to kiss his wet, swollen lips. The taste of his own come is in TJ's mouth – of course it is – and makes him groan, makes him greedy to get more of TJ. His tumble off his chair is probably pretty graceless, if not downright desperate, but he needs to get closer to TJ and he especially needs to get his hand/or even better, his mouth on TJ's cock.

It's probably pretty rude, the way he bats TJ's hand away from his cock but if TJ minds, it's not for long, if the way he groans into Steve's mouth as Steve closes his hand around him is anything to go by. Encouraged, Steve manages to drag his mouth from TJ's and plead, breathless and almost desperate, "Let me." He squeezes and TJ moans again, goes willingly when Steve pushes him down, guides him carefully onto his back. Once TJ is lying safely on the floor, stretched out underneath Steve in a way that makes it really goddamn hard to even think about pulling away, Steve presses one last, quick kiss to TJ's lips and focuses on what he really wants.

TJ spread his legs to accommodate Steve between them, which means that there's absolutely nothing to stop Steve from going straight for his cock. Any other situation he'd take his time, kiss TJ's skin and find out how he tastes, what he likes, but he doesn't have the patience for it now. He needs to make TJ feel just as good as TJ made him feel, and if he manages to get even halfway there he'll call it a success because it'll still mean TJ's feeling pretty damn great. Besides, TJ's cock in his hand is hard and leaking, clearly showing his arousal, his need to come, and for their first time Steve doesn't want to do drag things out unduly. Neither did he mean to do this on the floor but fuck, there's something hot about it, about them not having the patience to waste another second.

So he doesn't mess around, just sucks TJ's cock into his mouth. His reward is a loud curse, a clearly uttered "Fuck" that's probably more surprise than anything, going by the way TJ twitches, reaches out for Steve instinctively before hesitating as his brain kicks in again. Steve, mouth full with TJ's hot, hard cock, the flavor of bitter saltiness on his tongue, loosens his grip on TJ's hips to take his hand, tangle their fingers. TJ squeezes and moans, head hitting the carpet-covered floor with a dull thud.

Steve hasn't done this a lot, but he tries to make up for his lack in experience with enthusiasm and dedication, taking some inspiration from the frankly phenomenal suckjob he just received. He takes TJ in as far as he can, sucking hard, and swirls his tongue as he pulls off again and relishes the sound TJ makes, a long, drawn-out "Fuck" that he'll definitely take as a compliment. As he does every sound TJ emits. Every sigh, gasp and moan he relishes and commits to memory, making note of the things TJ seems to like especially.

It's after a couple of minutes of this that TJ's hips start to twitch. At first Steve thinks it's just a sign that he's close, but the high whine TJ gives when Steve tightens his grip on his hips with his free hand indicates otherwise. Experimentally, he loosens his grip again, and immediately TJ tries to thrust again only to whimper when Steve squeezes his hip in warning.

So that's how it is. He's sorry to let go of TJ's hand, but he wants to explore this. As a consolation he guides TJ's hand to his head where his fingers instantly tangle in Steve's hair as Steve's hand settles on the other side of TJ's hip, squeezing just a little.

"Yeah," TJ breathes lowly and shifts his hips a little, a breathy moan escaping him when Steve tightens his grip. Steve, not sure how much restraint TJ is going for here, stays careful; he's not looking to give TJ any bruises here, not before they've talked about this very thoroughly.

Except after a few moments TJ twitches his hips again, entirely deliberate because Steve hasn't loosened his grip any. Experimentally, Steve tightens his fingers, pushes TJ very decisively into the floor and TJ whines, fingers in Steve's hair twitching.

For a moment or two, he then stays where put so Steve can focus more on his cock again, which somehow feels much bigger in his mouth than it looked. Not that it looked small or anything – it's pretty, lean and elegant somehow, suiting TJ entirely. He likes sucking it, looks forwards to making TJ come. Afterwards they can go to bed for a nap or maybe watch some TV, and then they can do this again, if TJ wants to. Maybe-

"Again," TJ gasps, whines really, muscles tensing under Steve's hands, though he doesn't move just yet. It takes Steve a moment to figure out what he wants but when he does he loosens his grip. He expects for TJ to try to push up into his mouth, but somehow he doesn't expect him to try this hard; he's startled by how quick and hard TJ thrusts up and so his reaction is a little more forceful than he'd intended. Hands tightening around TJ's hips, he very firmly pushes him back into the floor.

And, most astonishingly, that's all it takes: TJ moans, loudly, and comes, Steve's name slurring on his lips. Steve is startled but at least he manages not to choke, mostly due to the fact that with the maneuver just now the tip of TJ's cock is resting more in the middle of his mouth than nestled in the back of it. He keeps it there, suckling gently as he swallows, the strangled little sounds TJ makes music in his ears.

After TJ has finished, he slowly pulls off, careful not to spill anything as he licks first TJ's cock, then his own lips clean. Swallowing down the last of TJ's sticky-bitter come, he looks up. TJ is lying limp on the floor, staring blurrily up at the ceiling as he tries to catch his breath. In an effort to see his expression better, Steve crawls up TJ's body and when TJ catches sight of him he smiles, blissful and sweet, face flushed adorably. All of a sudden Steve doesn't care that they're on the floor, that they both probably look a bit undignified with their pants open and cocks hanging out, a little sweaty and a little mussed. His only regret is that he didn't get to see TJ's expression when he came.

Next time, he tells himself and presses his lips to TJ's in what's supposed to be a brief, closed-mouthed kiss. He needn't have worried about politeness, though, because TJ immediately opens his mouth, eagerly drawing Steve into a deep kiss. It doesn't last very long because they're both out of breath; the strength seems to leave TJ abruptly and he lets his head drop to the ground with a small thud, smiling up at Steve dazedly. "Sorry," he slurs.

Steve blinks. "What for?"

But TJ just waves his hand listlessly, and it's impossible not to return his smile. Feeling a little giddy himself, Steve leans in to nuzzle TJ's cheek. It's soft; he must have shaved just before coming here. TJ, unlike Steve, is one of those guys who obtain a nice five o'clock shadow by midday.

TJ hums happily and slings one arm around Steve's neck, eyes falling shut in a blissful expression. It's entirely impossible to turn his gaze from him so Steve just keeps looking, taking in TJ's peaceful face, the small smile playing around his lips. He's entirely too beautiful for Steve to quite catch his breath.

After about a minute TJ blinks his eyes open to peer up at him. When his eyes catch Steve's he laughs, seemingly for no other reason than sheer happiness, and he leans up for a short but sweet kiss, fingers curling in the collar of Steve's shirt. Geez, they haven't even gotten naked.

"Want to take this to bed?" Steve suggests.

With a lazy smile, TJ waves his hand floppily. "Not sure walking's a good idea just yet."

"I can carry you," Steve immediately replies, shifting so he's leaning over TJ properly, kneeling between his legs.

"You-" TJ starts, sounding more amused than anything, but then Steve wraps both arms around him, one around his hips, the other around his back and shoulders, and lifts him up. With a startled noise TJ immediately wraps both arms and legs around Steve but it's not necessary; he isn't heavy and Steve has no difficulties getting to his feet and walking him over to his bedroom.

"Right," TJ says a bit dazedly, face nestled in Steve's neck. "I forgot about that."

Steve hums noncommittally and nudges the door closed with his elbow, then switches on the torchiere with his foot. Only once the room is lit in muted but still bright, warm light does he set TJ down on the bed, gentle as he kneels on the edge of the mattress and then slowly lets go of him. TJ allows it but doesn't unwind his arms from around Steve's neck, just loosens his grip somewhat until he finds himself sitting on the mattress, legs spread with Steve kneeling between, looking up at Steve with a soft expression. "I do like a little bit of manhandling," he admits freely.

"I noticed," Steve replies, lips quirking up. He shuffles back a little, not so much so TJ has to let go but enough so he can get his hands between them and work on undoing the buttons of TJ's shirt. TJ allows it, compliant, and once all buttons are open presents his wrists to Steve for the cufflinks. Then he waits until Steve has pushed the shirt over his shoulders and pulled it off him completely before dropping on his back, shirtless and hair less artfully tousled and more sex mussed. With his pants still open, cock hanging out, he looks like temptation personified, irresistible. It takes some serious effort for Steve to move away instead of towards him, but his goal is to get TJ naked for real and that's a good enough motivator. He slides off the mattress and undoes TJ's shoes, then pulls off his socks and then his pants, and it's only then that he finds that TJ hasn't been wearing any underwear.

Seriously?, he wants to ask, but the mood is almost solemn and he's disinclined to disturb it just yet. Instead he sends TJ a look, in return for which he receives an insolent grin. He can't do anything to that than want to kiss it off, but when he tries to crawl back onto the bed TJ stops him, one naked foot against Steve's chest. "You too," he says seriously, eyes sliding down and up Steve's body again.

The message is clear, and Steve doesn't think he's ever undressed so fast in his life. When he's naked, clothes carelessly dropped onto the floor unlike TJ's, which he at least semi-caringly threw over a chair, he crawls on top of TJ again, not getting stopped this time. No, TJ seems happy to have him, eyes raking down and up Steve's body before he smiles, somewhere between sweet and tempting, and tilts his face up into the kiss Steve offers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me just mention here how hard it was not to title this chapter "Climax". Really hard. Very hard.
> 
> All the puns.


	6. Realizations

Sex puts a new spin on their relationship. As expected, really, but it's not like Steve has a huge pool of experience to look back on. He has done a bit of more or less innocent dating back when, some openly, some very much in secret, and in the new century a bunch of more or less one-night hook-ups interspersed with a few one to two months relationships. After losing everything and waking up in a new millennium, he desperately tried to get some sort of connection with the new world he found himself in. Casual sex wasn't the way to go, he found eventually.

This isn't casual sex, what he and TJ have. In hindsight, Steve isn't sure they'd been just friends even before they actually did something about it. He can't deny having noticed TJ before, can't deny having watched, a perpetual, underlying something between them that neither of them ever addressed. Perhaps they weren't ready to until now. It would've been weird anyhow, Steve supposes, with TJ still in hospital.

Steve feels ready now, though he can't deny still being a little scared, and TJ clearly feels ready too. For what, though? Steve wonders when he wakes up a couple of hours after he took TJ to bed in more than one way. TJ is peacefully slumbering next to him, lying on his belly with one hand tentatively stretched out towards Steve.

Steve shifts onto his side, pillow under his head, and carefully slides his hand underneath TJ's waiting hand, tangles their fingers. Then he just... stares. At TJ's slack face, deeply asleep, the way his back slowly rises and sinks again in the ebb and flow of his even, slow breath. There's an emotion in him, something strong that he's scared to name but can't deny the existence of, and it only grows more all-encompassing when he remembers what TJ and him have been doing in here. Not just the sex part, which had been amazing, but the little bits in between, the way TJ smiled at him, the way he laughed when Steve squeezed the lube too hard and ended up with it all over his fingers, his wide-eyed, almost astonished expression when Steve held his cock steady and sank down on him. The way he said Steve's name, moaned it, whispered it, whined it, and the way he happily accepted the offer when Steve opened his arms for post-coital cuddling, even though they were both still a little too sweaty and hot for it.

It's not that Steve has never had feelings for somebody he slept with. He's had fun in bed, he's done it slow, fast, hard, intense. He's no stranger to sex or relationships. But this, what he has with TJ, it feels different. They didn't fall into bed right after meeting, though if he's honest with himself, if they'd met under any other circumstances they probably would have.

That didn't happen, though. They got to know each other first, and it's cowardly, his hesitation to admit it, like naming it will change anything about how he feels. It won't.

Steve is in love. And he wants to... he wants this. He wants to be with TJ, if TJ wants that too, if TJ will let him. If he doesn't he can be okay with being friends, though it will hurt, but that's what he wants.

Long term? That's a question he needs to know the answer for, because as much as he'd like that, being with him isn't uncomplicated. He is Captain America, after all, and TJ has a long history of a seriously problematic relationship with the media, especially paparazzi and the leering, gleeful side of it, full of Schadenfreude and malicious amusement whenever TJ slips up. Steve still hasn't looked him up – makes a point of not doing that by this point – but he knows what TJ has told him, and it's not good. And fact of the matter is, being with Captain America will certainly not make life any easier for TJ. He's already struggling, fresh out of the hospital, that safety buffer between him and the press removed. Already, he's been followed by photographers, watched whenever they spot him, though thankfully they so far haven't found out yet where he lives. According to TJ, though, it's only a matter of time.

Can Steve do that to him? He has no illusions, TJ Hammond being with Captain America – which is what their relationship will be to the media world – will be a huge coup, possibly unparalleled to anything in TJ's life except that time when he was fifteen and outed as gay against his will and without his consent. That's not a positive parallel at all. No matter if it's true or not, people will see it as bad boy TJ Hammond turning Captain America gay, or to the dark side, or whatever crap they like to spout about this sort of thing.

For the first time, instead of mild discomfort Steve feels serious regret that he's failed to come out so far. It had been deliberate, he doesn't like being in the press and had tried to avoid attention at any cost, not to mention that he still believes that his private life and affairs are nobody's business. But if Steve had mentioned at one point that he feels as attracted to men as he does to women, the fall-out when this comes out wouldn't be so big, and hopefully it wouldn't most of it come down on TJ.

"What tizzit?" TJ slurs, eyes still closed. Steve has no idea how he even knows that Steve is awake.

He sighs and leans in to softly kiss TJ's cheek. "Nothing." No point disturbing what otherwise might turn into a nice, relaxing night of sleep for TJ.

Except instead of soothing TJ back to sleep, this actually makes him blink one eye open, blearily peering at Steve through the darkness. He probably can't see as well in this light, or lack of light rather, as Steve can, serum-enhanced and all. "I can hear you thinking," TJ murmurs, much clearer, and sighs, the fingers of his hand entwined with Steve's twitching.

Steve grimaces. "Sorry. I didn't mean to keep you up."

Even as he turns on his side to face Steve better, TJ manages to leer at that. "You sure about that?" Then he turns serious and squeezes Steve's hand, tugs a little until he scoots closer. "Hey. Stop deflecting, what's up?"

Well. No matter what decision they come to, TJ definitely should be involved in the decision-making process. Steve's gut reaction is to tell him to just forget this, but that's half a fear reaction in an attempt to pre-empt TJ making the exact same decision, and half condescending protectiveness. But TJ is old enough to make his own decisions, not to mention that it's a serious issue for him anyway, other people making decision for and or over him all the time.

So Steve sighs and lowers his gaze for a moment as he collects his thoughts, tries to figure out what exactly and how to tell him. "I was just thinking about... well, us."

"Okay," TJ says warily, more an encouragement for Steve to go on than anything else.

"About what would happen if, well, if it gets out that we're together," Steve elaborates. "With the press, and everything."

TJ squeezes his eyes shut and curses, turns his face away a little until he's blinking at the ceiling, though he doesn't remove his hand from its entanglement with Steve's. "And what did you decide?"

"Nothing," Steve tells him immediately, relieved that it's the truth. "I just think we need to make some decisions together, don't you?"

"Yeah," TJ agrees after a moment, and Steve can't tell if he sounds relieved or not. But he doesn't say anything, and so it's at Steve to get the ball rolling.

"I'm sorry I haven't come out yet," he starts with. "If I had, it probably wouldn't be as big a deal."

TJ blinks and stares. "You want to come out?"

"Well," Steve falters, a little taken aback by how startled TJ is. "Of course. Eventually. It doesn't need to be because of you, though, it's just something I want to do – wanted to do. I never really did it though, even though I meant to, and if we go public that'll have an effect on you, and for that I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," TJ says after a moment. "It's not your fault or something you did wrong. I just didn't think you'd... I didn't want to assume anything."

It takes Steve a moment to make the connection. TJ had told him about Sean, pointedly casual, but his voice and expression had given him away.

"You're not assuming anything," Steve says firmly. "Except maybe that I wouldn't want to. I do. I'm serious about you. We... it doesn't have to be now though. Or anytime soon, or anything we even have to talk about now. Just something to think about and discuss at some point."

"Okay," TJ agrees slowly. "Okay. I'll think about it." Then he leans in to kiss Steve, lips finding his unerringly even in the dark.


	7. And Decisions

In Steve's previous relationships – the ones in this century anyway, the rules of dating having changed somewhat since then, though not as much as people like to believe – he never was quite sure what to do, what was expected of him. With TJ, this is both easier and more difficult because they were friends before romance and sex entered their relationship. On the one hand, they already are in regular contact. On the other, that's as friends and Steve doesn't know if he should change anything.

After about a week of him worrying about it TJ, staying over for his second night after their first date, settles on top of Steve's chest, chin propped up in one hand, and touches the tip of Steve's nose with his index finger. "You don't need to worry so much."

Steve cringes. "That obvious?"

TJ smiles, a bit of wonder in the expression. "I know you, Steve."

Steve smiles back, probably a bit besotted. "You do."

They smile at each other for a moment, then Steve remembers what they were talking about. "So... less worrying. I can do that." Hopefully.

Humming thoughtfully, TJ runs his finger down the slope of Steve's nose, then his lips. "Let's make a deal. If I want anything from you or expect anything, I'll tell you, okay? Same goes for you."

"Sounds good," Steve agrees immediately. Actually he really likes that idea.

"It's something I learned in therapy," TJ reveals freely. "If you expect something form someone, you have to communicate your wants for them to be aware of them."

"Makes sense," Steve agrees, reaching out to card his fingers through TJ's hair and cupping his jaw. "So, is there anything you want from me?"

"Oh, Steve," TJ purrs, a twinkle entering his eyes as his lips curl up. His expression alone sends an excited tingle down Steve's spine. "You're very good at meeting my needs."

He leans in for a kiss, and Steve keeps up the good work, if he does say so himself.

The week after that they have the conversation. About coming out, going public, and what each of them wants. Steve has been waiting for TJ to bring it up, unsure whether they mostly meet up at Steve's place now because of secrecy – the paparazzi don't know where he lives, whereas they've found TJ's building about a week ago – or for other reasons. What those reasons might be he isn't sure, but it's a consideration.

TJ doesn't bring it up, though, and before it becomes something that gets him worried again Steve decides that he'll do it, then. Blunt and direct, the way TJ is with his issues – not all of them, there are things he has difficulties talking about and Steve never presses – he sits down next to TJ, hands him the glass of wine he poured for him and says, "We need to talk."

TJ cringes and his eyes drop to his glass; in a motion that seems subconscious he lifts it, then freezes mid-way to his mouth. Something final about the gesture, he leans forward and sets it on the coffee table, hands entwining in his lap as he sits back again. For a moment he stares at the glass, then looks up at Steve again. "Serious?"

Blinking, Steve glances at the wine and then at TJ. They'd talked about this, alcohol and TJ's issues with it – he's not addicted per se, but has the unhealthy tendency to use alcohol as a crutch and as an escape. One glass a week is fine, though, and it's Friday evening, the day TJ usually has that glass. "Everything okay?"

"You said we need to talk," TJ reminds him. Is he evading the question?

"Yes, about going public and all that," Steve confirms, still preoccupied with the wine. "Would you rather have something else? I have that mango juice you like."

For a moment or two TJ stares at him, unmoving, and then he exhales and runs a hand through his hair, sagging into the couch. "Steve. Are you aware that "we need to talk" is generally the intro to the break-up talk?"

"What?" Steve blurts. "No! It's not, I'm not- is that what you thought?"

Head leaning against the backrest, TJ tilts his head to peer up at him. The relief is obvious in every line of his body and face. "For like the past three minutes."

Fuck. "No," Steve says again, with even more intent this time. Setting his own glass on the coffee table, he frames TJ's face with both hands and kisses him. "No. I didn't mean that."

"I'm getting that." By this point TJ actually seems to find some amusement with the situation, though his smile is a little self-deprecating when he cups Steve's face and pulls him back in for another kiss. It's the sort of expression Steve wishes TJ would never wear, because it means he's probably calling himself names in his head right this moment.

"I didn't mean that," Steve emphasizes again, not sure what else to say. "I'm sorry I made you think that. I'm very happy with you, I don't want to break up."

Smile turning bright, TJ peers up at him, hand still on Steve's jaw. "Yeah? Me too."

It's impossible not to kiss him when he looks like that, and Steve hasn't bothered trying to suppress that impulse since their first date.

"Okay," TJ says sometime later when they reemerge, voice dreamy and expression peaceful. Running his fingertips down Steve's neck, he hooks his index and middle finger in the collar of Steve's shirt and pulls a little before smiling up at Steve, sweet and happy. At one point he sunk to his back or maybe Steve pushed him, and now he's nestled into Steve's chest with Steve half on top, half next to him, lips still tingling. "Publicity?"

It takes Steve a moment to remember what he means. "Right. I mean... what do you want? Because that's the deciding factor, for me. If you want we can go public tomorrow, but if you would rather keep it secret for a while, I'm fine with that too."

"Are you?" TJ asks, not quite meeting Steve's eyes. "Because I got the impression you regret not coming out and want to do it now."

"I do, yes. I wish I had. I'm still thinking maybe I could do it soon – it doesn't have to be about you," Steve points out, brushing a strand of hair out of TJ's forehead. "Coming out, I mean. I'll just mention I'm bisexual and I don't have to mention you at all."

Slowly, TJ nods, but he doesn't look overly enthusiastic about that. "Theoretically, you could. I can't and won't stop you if that's what you want. But the moment you say something about it, they'll start hounding you and the chance of us being found out increases significantly."

That's... something Steve didn't consider. "You're right. Damn. Then I won't do that yet either. I take it you don't want us to be out together, then?"

"It's not about you," TJ hastens to assure him. "It's... maybe it is a little bit about you, but in reverse, because being associated with me isn't going to do your image any good. But... I just... honestly? I'm not sure I could deal with the pressure from the press right now. I never really had privacy from them, there's always a paparazzi or two around, but... it'd be so much worse if they knew about us. They'd hound us and stalk us and commit felonies to catch pictures of us together."

Unfortunately, he isn't wrong about that. "So we'll table it for now."

Lower lip, still slightly swollen and red from the kissing, caught between his teeth, TJ looks up at him. "You good with that?"

"Yes," Steve confirms, leaning in for a quick kiss. "I meant it when I said it's your decision. I'd be happy to come out now, either as bi or as bi and your partner, or to not do either yet."

"We can... slowly," TJ suggests, fingertips on Steve's sternum. "I mean, in a couple of months, you can mention the bi thing. And in a year, maybe, us? I can't make any promises. Who knows where I'll be in a year – where we'll be in a year. I might crash next week and then, well." Shrugging, TJ watches his fingers twist in the fabric of Steve's t-shirt.

This... Steve doesn't quite know how to handle this. In the past when TJ said something like that he'd make his disagreement known and then leave it because he figured it was none of his business, but the situation is different now. It is his business, to a point. "I don't think you will," he protests calmly. "And even if you do, you won't crash and burn. You have a support network. I'll always be there for you, whenever you need me, and you have your family too, and your therapist. If it gets really bad you can go back to the hospital, too."

"Yeah, I guess," TJ says slowly, brows furrowed and gaze still focused on where his fingers have stilled, twisted in Steve's shirt.

"And besides," Steve remembers what else he wanted to say, "I'm hoping in a year we'll still be together, and that if we decide we don't fit together, that we'll still be friends. Even if we're not in a relationship anymore – and I think we will be – I'll always be there for you."

TJ swallows audibly, then looks up. "You're terrible. You're too good and I start thinking everybody is like that but they aren't and I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You don't have to do anything without me you don't want to do without me," Steve says firmly, drawing him into a hug. TJ immediately comes, burying his face in Steve's chest, one arm going around his neck. "And I'm nothing special. I think that a lot of people are good. Many just don't know how to show it. You're good."

"Don't say that," TJ protests, voice firm and frown heavy as he lifts his head to glare at Steve. "You're special. You're really special, Steve, and I don't mean because of the Captain America stuff or anything. You're the kindest, most caring, most thoughtful, most nonjudgmental person I've ever met, and I don't think any of it came from some special science potion, that's _you_ , Steve Rogers. Don't say you're not special. I've never met anyone like you."

That's... what is Steve supposed to say to that? Cheeks hot, he swallows once, then lifts his automatically lowered eyes. "I've never met anyone like you either. You're honest and caring and sweet and thoughtful and I really don't know what I'd do without you, either."

Holding Steve's gaze even as his own cheeks tint, TJ licks his lips once. Then he says, "You don't have to do anything without me you don't want to either."

"Good," Steve whispers and leans in for a soft kiss. "We'll do it all together, then."

"Okay," TJ whispers back, eyes fluttering shut when Steve's lips find his again. "Together."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, The End.  
> Thanks for staying with me this far, hope you enjoyed the ride, and thank you so much for your support in the form of kudos/comments! ♥ I really appreciate it. And if you want more, check out the sequel, [A Solid Fondation](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4105069).


End file.
